May Day

It
was a few weeks before Easter when the Cubs and Brownies began their
rehearsals for the May Pole dance. It was definitely more of a girl
thing than a boy thing; skipping around with garlands of flowers and
long lengths of ribbon. It was also the time of year when the
Brownies would be getting giddy about who would be chosen as this
year’s May Queen. The only difference this year is the fact that
Brown Owl had made a radical suggestion for updating the selection
system and for the first year ever, both girls and boys could be
nominated.

Initially we weren't
worried because no boy would ever nominate himself nor be chosen over
a girl. It was nothing more than an exercise in equality, balancing
boy's rights with women's rights, my mother claimed. But during the
May Pole dance class one Thursday evening, Brown Owl announced that
the eight nominees for this year's May Queen had been chosen. “...and
I'm delighted to inform you that we have five girls and three boys!”

We all gasped. The Cubs
began nervously grumbling amongst themselves whilst the Brownies
began whispering and giggling behind cupped hands. “I hope Roger
Fletcher's one of them!” one of the Brownies giggled. Roger
countered and suggested one of the younger Cubs. Other names were
suggested until the Cub Scout Leader quietened us down. Once we were
attentive, Brown Owl stepped forward and began to read a list of
names. “Jane Cleaver, Brian Preston...”

A host of gasps and
giggles erupted and somewhere in the background noise, one could just
make out Brian meekly mutter “Oh no.”

It took a moment for it
to sink in. Initially I thought I’d misheard but the sniggers and
giggles and all the eyes glancing at me confirmed that I was on the
list. “What!?” I blurted. “How can I be on the list? ...I
didn't even nominate myself!”.

“Bet you did!” One
of the bigger Cubs claimed. “I bet you're as big-a-faggot as those
two at home!” he added, pointing towards Brian and his brother
Andrew. The Cub Scout leader yelled at him to quieten down. Brown Owl
informed me that I had been nominated and had gained enough votes.

I took a deep breath
and optimistically told myself that I’m just on the list. Only one
of us can be chosen as May Queen and chances are it'll be one of the
other seven. Brown Owl called out our first names and asked us to
join her before telling all the other boys and girls to continue
practising the May Pole dance.

“Congratulations.”
Brown Owl said. “And can I just say how nice it is to have some
boys involved in this year's May Queen parade.”

Strange,
I was just thinking the exact opposite. One of the girls said she
looks forward to seeing us wearing dresses. “Only if I'm selected.”
I ignorantly stated.

“Mandy's
right Peter... you'll all be wearing dresses on May Day.”

“Surely
it's only the May Queen who wears a dress.” Andrew said.

“And
what about her Seven Sisters?” Brown Owl asked.

All of a sudden it
dawned on me. The May Queen is flanked by her 'seven sisters', and
seven of us won't be the May queen! “What if we don't want to be
involved?” I asked.

“Why wouldn't you
want to be involved?” Brown Owl asked. “It's a great honour to be
part of the May Queen parade.”

“Because I don't want
to wear a dress... only girls wear dresses.” I stated. Andrew and
Brian grumbled their agreements. “I didn't even ask to be
nominated.” I added.

“All of your parents
approved the nominations weeks ago.” Brown Owl told us. “Your
family, friends, relatives, neighbours, teachers and various other
members of the community all voted for you.”

“But... no one asked
me!” I whined.

“Peter, if you're
having second thoughts, then I suggest you speak to your parents
first and foremost.” Brown Owl advised. “If you're still having
second thoughts, then talk to me at next week's Brownie meeting.”

“OK.” I glumly
grumbled. Since the eight of us wouldn't be taking part in the
maypole dance, we were allowed to leave early. We exited on mass. One
of the girls expressed her hope that it would be she who'd be chosen
as May Queen. A few of the girls expressed their hope that it'd be
one of us boys. “Shut up!” I grumbled. Other girls claimed it was
wrong to have boys involved. These I wholeheartedly agreed with.

We
went our separate ways. Eventually I arrived home and my dad quizzed
me as to why I was home early. “Because I'm not going to do the May
Pole dance.” I grumbled.

“Why so glum son?”
he asked. “I thought you didn't want to do it anyway?”

“I don't.. but
someone nominated me for May Queen and I got selected.” I mumbled.

“I see.” my dad
replied. “Your mother’s going to be over the moon.”

“Did I hear that
right?” my sister hollered as she entered from an adjoining room.
“You're going to be May Queen?!”

“Not if I can help
it.” I muttered. “Where's Mum?” I asked.

“She'll still be at
her book club.” Dad replied. “In fact I'd better call her and let
her know not to pick you up from dance practice.”

Dad lifted the
telephone and routed for Pauline's number (the lady who hosts the
book club). My sister began quizzing me about being the May Queen,
but they were all questions I couldn't answer. I went to my room and
sulked. In previous years, I didn't pay much attention to the May
Queen thing so I didn't really know what to expect. I know she leads
the parade and is flanked by a group of girls dressed in similar
white frocks, but other than that it's all a bit of a mystery. Mum
arrived home an hour or so later. She called me down and got over
excited that I'd been chosen as May Queen. It took me a while to shut
her up in order to explain that I haven't been chosen, but am merely
one of the final eight nominees. “The May Queen could be any one of
us... we don't know who yet.” I finally managed to explain.

This information took
the wind out of Mum's sails, thankfully. “Oh well... even if you
don't become this year's May Queen, you'll be one of her Seven
Sisters... that's something.” she optimistically told me.

“But... I don't want
to be one of them either... that stuff's for girls.”

“Not any more it
isn't.” my mother smugly stated. “I think it's great that boys
can finally take part.”

“I don't...
especially if one of them is me.” I mumbled. “Mum... can you tell
Brown Owl that I don't want to do it?”

“But why don't you
want to do it?” Mum asked. “It's a great honour for a child your
age...”

“Maybe for girl my
age!” I interrupted.

“It's an even greater
honour to be the first ever boy May Queen.” my mother told
me.

“Your mother's right
son... in years to come you'll look back on this and...” he paused.
“Actually Peter... I understand your reluctance, I really do, but
your mother has set her heart on it when we nominated you.. she
rallied around and got our friends and family to vote for you... I
got the guys at work to do the same.” he informed me. “If you
can't do it for yourself, then do it for your mother.”

“But... I really
really really really really don't want to do it.” I stated. “Please
don't make me.” I pleaded. “Everyone's going to think I'm a right
sissy, even if I'm not May Queen I'll still have to wear a dress.”

“I can't wait to see
that!” my sister grinned. I told her to shut up. “Hey Mum... he
could wear some of my old dresses and practice being a girl!” she
suggested. Again, I told her to shut up. Both Mum and Dad suggested
that I 'pipe down'. “I'm only trying to help Peter.” my sister
smugly claimed.

I pleaded with my
mother to tell Brown Owl that I didn't want to do it, but she refused
because she wanted me to do it. I begged my father who claimed to
understand my reluctance, but ultimately he sided with my mother.
There's no point asking my sister. “Well... I'll just tell Brown
Owl myself at next week's Brownie group.”

“OK... but at least
spend your time between now and then having good long think about
it.” my mother said. “And rather than 'tell' Brown Owl what you
want to do, talk to her about it, with an open mind.” she
suggested.

I spent the time
thinking long and hard about it. I also spent much of that time being
teased and taunted by some of the kids at school about being
nominated for May Queen. So was Andrew who's in the year below me,
and I suspect his older brother Brian who's in the first year at high
school was also being teased. No matter which way I looked at it,
being May Queen or one of her Seven Sisters would be an awful
experience... maybe it'd be nice if I was a girl, but I’m not, I’m
a boy and boys simply don't do stuff like that. The prospect of
having to dance around the May Pole was bad enough, but at least we
don’t have to wear dresses to do that! The weekend came and went
and I endured my Nana, aunt and my cousins Sally & Sarah all
claimed that it would be wonderful if I was the next May Queen. I
wasn't surprised when my Granddad, uncle Philip and cousin Paul
seemed just as bemused as I at the prospect. “You never know
Peter... you might enjoy it.” Uncle Phil told me.

On Tuesday at school, I
crossed paths with Andrew, one of the other nominees. He asked me if
I was going to Brownies tonight. “I'm going to tell Brown Owl that
I don't want to be part of it.” I replied.

“I keep telling my
mum that.” Andrew mournfully replied. “...but she's set her heart
on us being part of the parade.” he sighed.

“Mine too.” I
retorted, adding my Dad, sister, Nanna, aunt and cousins to the list
of supporters. “It's going to be horrible having to wear a dress in
front of all those people.”

“Well... like I say,
I'm only going to tell Brown Owl that I’m not going to do it.”

“I guess I'll see you
tonight.” Andrew said before we went our separate ways.

I arrived home from
school, did my homework, watched TV, had supper and fully expected to
be asked to wash the dishes. Instead, my sister was asked. “Isn't
it my turn?” I quizzed, knowing that my sister did the dishes last
night.

“No... I’m only
going to Brownies to tell Brown Owl that I don't want to be May
Queen.” I stated. “..or one of the Seven Sisters.” I added.

I was positively aghast
when my mother told me her version of why I'm going to Brownies
tonight, and not only tonight, but every Tuesday until May Day. “I've
taken the badges off Judy's old uniform... it's bound to fit.” Mum
said.

“I'm not wearing the
uniform!” I blurted. “I'm only popping in and out again to tell
her I don't want to do it!”

“You're going to
Brownies and you're wearing the uniform Peter.” my mother retorted.
“If you want to talk to Brown Owl about whether or not you want to
be the May Queen, that's up to you.” she said. “But you're not
going to back out of this without even dipping your toes in the
water.”

“Sorry son, but your
mother comes first.” he replied. “Anyway, you should think
yourself lucky... a boy your age getting in with all those girls.”
he grinned.

“Oi!” Mum snapped.
“Don't put ideas like that into his head.”

“Sorry dear.” Dad
chirped before sloping off.

Mum turned to me and
said “Come on you. I've got your uniform ready... and I'll drive
you there if you don't fancy walking.”

“I don't want to go.”
I moaned. “I'll do the May Queen stuff but... not Brownies.. please
Mum.” I pleaded.

“Going to Brownies is
the 'May Queen stuff'.” my mother replied. “Anyway, chances are
you won't be the May Queen... there are seven other nominees after
all.” she said.

“Yeah but I'll still
be one of the Seven Sisters.” I replied, “I'll still have to wear
a dress.” I grumbled.

“Which is why you're
going to Brownies instead of Cubs... you'll have a good few weeks to
get used to the idea of wearing a dress and eventually, hopefully,
learn to be the perfect May Queen... and even you understand that
it's better to learn all that from the girls.”

“But I don't want to
do it!” I super-whined.

“And chances are you
won't with your attitude.” Mum retorted. “You'll just be one of
the seven sisters, going completely unnoticed as all eyes will be on
the May Queen.” she claimed.

Maybe she's got a
point. If I’m not the May Queen then I won't be so prominent in the
parade. It's beginning to look highly unlikely that I won't be able
to worm my way out of this, so maybe I’m better off simply trying
to flunk it? My mother reached out her hand and said “Come on... it
won't seem anywhere near as bad when you've got it on.”

My mother led me by the
hand to my bedroom. On my bed lay my sister's old Brownie uniform
along with a pair of white knee socks. I gulped. Mum told me to get
undressed and I did as she asked... very... slowly. “Undies too.”
Mum said.

“Why?” I whined.

“Because you need
knickers, not underpants.”

“I'm not wearing
Judy's knickers!” I yelped.

“They're not Judy's.”
mum replied. “They're brand new, just for you.” she grinned.

After donning a pair of
frilly white knickers and a lace trimmed vest, I was glad to don the
drab brown Brownie uniform. I felt flustered as I fastened the
leather belt around my waist. Doubly so when my mother fastened the
little yellow tie under the collar of my frock. I rolled the pair of
girlie white knee socks up my calves before slipping my feet into my
own shoes and finally standing up. My mother grinned and bit her lip.
She adopted the posture of a shy five year old and told me that I
looked 'so sweet'. I felt myself blush as I requested one last time
that she doesn't make me go to Brownies. She told me that backing out
of something without even giving it a try is just plain silly.

I hung my head and she
drove me to the village hall. Being almost ten years old, I've not
held my mother's hand for years, but the moment we got out of the
car, I grabbed her hand and didn't let go. Both Brian and Andrew were
there and like me, both are wearing the standard Brownie uniform.
Brian wore shoes with a small yet noticeable heel. Andrew wore a pair
of beige loafers. My shoes felt clumpy in comparison. The girls
giggled and sniggered at us from afar. Our mothers briefly chatted
about this supposedly 'amazing' idea and agreed that a bit of 'girl'
time would do us good. Brown Owl opened the door of the village hall
and beckoned the girls inside. “Now you two be good...” Brian &
Andrew's mother told them. “...try your best and give it your all.”

“Yes Mum... er...
Mummy.” they half-heartedly replied.

“The same goes for
you Peter.” my own mother added.

“OK” I glumly
replied.

The three of us walked
toward the door where Brown Owl stood waiting. “Good evening
girls.” she smiled as we entered the vestibule. I nervously glanced
over my shoulder as Brown Owl closed the door behind us. “Don't be
shy... in you go.” she smiled. I turned to face the partially
glazed inner door and the gabble of giggly girls within. Brown Owl
practically pushed us through it and a heavy silence fell as every
last one of the Brownies turned to look at us. “Say hello to our
new Brownies girls... and give them a big Brownie smile!” Brown Owl
said in a overly enthusiastic tone of voice.

“Hello.” the girls
half heartedly muttered in unison. I gulped as I looked at their
faces; each and every one smiling in bemusement at the three boys
who've joined their pack. Tawny Owl; being Brown Owl's assistant
instructed the girls to line up in their 'Sixes'. They formed five
formal rows around the perimeter of the hall, each group consisted of
between five and seven girls and is led by a Sixer. The first sixer
stepped forwards, turned and saluted her pack who in unison recited
the rhyme, This is what we do as Elves... think of others not
ourselves. The sixer turned and saluted Brown Owl before
confidently stating “We're prepared!” Then the next pack did the
same and recited their rhyme, We're the Fairies glad and gay...
helping others every day. The Imps, Pixies and Sprites all
recited their rhymes and declared themselves 'prepared'.

“Very good girls!”
Brown Owl said before introducing each of us newcomers by name.
“...now they're all experienced Cub Scouts and all being well, by
the end of this evening's meeting, they'll make their Brownie promise
and become fully fledged Brownies.” she announced. “Now... you go
and join the Elves Brian... Andrew, you're with the Imps,
and Peter, you join the Sprites.”

I was a nervous wreck
as I sheepishly walked towards my group. Melanie, the pack's 'sixer'
wore a sleeve packed with badges. She introduced me to her 'second',
a girl called Vanessa who's sleeve was also packed with badges, and
finally the other three Brownies; Claire, Jane and Sharon. “Jane, I
nominate you as Peter's Brownie Buddy.” Melanie announced.
She gave me two 'sprite' pack badges which need to be stitched on the
left sleeve and left chest of my uniform. “Your mum can do it but
if you do it yourself, you'll earn the sewing badge if it's neat
enough.” she added. I put the badges in my pocket and buttoned it
shut so I wouldn't lose them.

Jane, my 'brownie
buddy' smiled at me and I sheepishly smiled back. “Would you help
me get some chairs and a table Peter?” she politely asked.

I glanced around and
the others were doing just that. “Er... yeah OK.” I mumbled.

“Peter... Brownies
don't mutter or mumble their words...” Melanie stated in an
authoritative and rhythmic tone. “Brownies' speak clearly so their
words can be heard.”

“Er... OK.” I
muttered before helping Jane fetch a table, then six chairs. The
other 'sixes' did the same. Perched around the table, Melanie and
Vanessa took the lead and discussed what being a 'good' Brownie
means. I learned about the Brownie promise and Brownie law, the
Brownie motto... it's all more or less the same as Cubs but with
subtle little differences such as the emphasis on always being neat
and clean, smiling a lot and helping our mothers with cooking and
cleaning. The girls showed off their badges which are also similar to
those we have in Cubs; tying knots, star gazing, reading a compass,
building a fire, collecting and so on.

Brown Owl and her Tawny
assistant made regular visits to each table to see how we were
getting on. I was asked to tell my pack about the badges I’d earned
at my Cub Scout group, so I listed them and ignorantly suggested that
Brownie badges must be easier to earn than Cub badges. The girls were
instantly annoyed with me and I wish I'd kept my mouth shut. “We'll
see shall we.” Brown Owl said. She asked me to demonstrate my knot
tying skills, which I did with both confidence and dexterity. “Very
good.” Brown Owl said. “Do you know how to plait hair?” she
asked. “In threes and fours?” she added.

“Er... no.” I
replied. I didn't even know what she meant with regards to 'threes
and fours'.

“Do you know how to
tie an apron?” she asked. “In a neat and even bow behind your
back?” she added. I shook my head. “For a Brownie to earn her
knot tying badge, she needs to know how to plait hair and tie an
apron as well as all the usual knots.” she informed me. “Isn't
that right girls?”

“Yes Brown Owl.”
the girls replied in unison.

Now I know I should
have kept my mouth shut when I said Brownie badges would be easy to
earn. She suggested the girls teach me these two skills before asking
me about my other badges. I mentioned the stargazing one and Brown
Owl asked me to explain to the girls how one can find the North Star.
On a piece of paper, I drew the shape of The Plough, explained that
it's part of The Great Bear constellation and is also known as The
Big Dipper and described how to use it to find the north star. I got
the feeling they already knew what I was explaining but I think I
impressed them when I demonstrated how to find the Andromeda galaxy
using Cassiopeia and the Square of Pegasus. She asked me if I could
draw the constellation of Orion which I did. I even added Sirius, the
dog star. She left us alone and the girl's had me practice plaiting
three strands of rope. After struggling to get my fingers around the
technique, I then tried it on Jane's long hair, which was harder
still. The girls found it amusing watching me get flustered over
something they've all been doing since they were little. Tawny Owl
sauntered over and complimented the plait I'd tied in Jane's hair.
She described it as 'quite neat' before asking if I have a sister.
“Yes but she's four years older than me.” I replied, before
sheepishly stating that I’m wearing her old uniform.

“It looks very nice
on you.” she smiled. “Why don't you practise on her hair and next
week, we'll see if you've improved enough to earn the badge?” she
suggested.

“Er... OK.” I
sheepishly replied. Tawny owl suggested that the girls teach me how
to tie an apron, and Jane escorted me to the dressing up box to
choose one. “They're all girlie.” I grumbled.

“Well we're all
girls.” Jane smiled. I began to open my mouth to protest but
decided not to. I might not be a girl but I'm certainly dressed like
one. We chose a yellow apron with white flowers and a frilly hem (it
was the best of a bad bunch) and returned to the pack. I can tie a
bow behind my back because we occasionally wear aprons at school for
art class, but tying a 'neat & even' bow quickly proved to be a
lot trickier.

After half an hour we
had a short break which involved a weak beaker of orange juice and a
biscuit. Us boys gravitated to each other and Andrew declared the
experience as 'awful'. “It's not that bad.” I reluctantly
admitted as Tawny Owl approached.

“Er... yes.” we
muttered, although I'd prefer it if we weren't collectively referred
to as 'girls'.

“Now, apart from
being polite and helpful, what's a good Brownie supposed to be?”
she asked. After a few 'wrong' answers, Brian finally got it right
when he suggested 'presentable'. “Very good Brian.” she smiled.
“Which is why all three of you need to keep checking your knee
socks to make sure they're pulled all the way up, and that the
patterns aren't twisted.” she informed us. I looked down at my
socks. One is up yet twisted, the other is at half mast. Brian and
Andrew's socks are similarly unkempt. All three of us tended to them.
“That's better.” she said before sauntering off.

“This is so weird.”
I frowned. “I feel silly wearing a dress.”

“Me too.” Brian
agreed. “Especially in front of all these girls.”

“It could be worse.”
Andrew claimed. “I thought they'd all be laughing... at least
they're being nice to us.” he added. I guess he's got a point, but
that doesn't make it any less weird. I wonder if they're both wearing
knickers too, before swiftly removing that thought from my head. “Do
you wear dresses at home?” Andrew asked.

“No!” I retorted.
Although in light of my sister Judy's suggestion that I need to
practice, a more accurate answer could be 'not yet'.

Brown Owl clapped her
hands and the short break was over. The meeting resumed and we
rejoined our packs and played a few group games; Mole in the Hole, On
the Bus and What Time is it Mr Wolf? Towards the end of the meet we
discussed the Brownie Promise and Brownie Law once more before Brian,
Andrew and I each made our promise and Brown Owl pinned the gold
Brownie badge to our collars. The girls clapped whilst we just
blushed. Once again, Brown Owl told the group that before joining the
Brownies, all three of us were Cub Scouts and had already earned some
badges. “Brain and Andrew have both demonstrated their birdwatching
knowledge as well as their knot tying skills.” she said. They
stepped forward to receive the badges as the rest of us half
heartedly applauded them. “And Peter has demonstrated his excellent
knowledge of the night sky.” I stepped forward to receive my badge
to a small, underwhelming applause. “A little more practice on your
plaiting and you'll have the knot tying badge next week.” she
smiled. Other girls received badges for various things such as
helping the elderly, laying a dining table and earning a swimming
award.

The meeting drew to a
close and myself, Brian and Andrew were each given a copy of The
Brownie Handbook and the Brownie Badge book before Janet, Paula,
Claire, Wendy and Amanda were called over to bring all eight nominees
together. Again we were collectively referred to as 'girls' and told
that from next Tuesday, we'll be staying on after Brownies for an
extra thirty minutes where we'll learn everything we need to know for
the May Day celebration. “What kind of things?” I hesitantly
asked.

“All sorts of things
Peter... you'll be rehearsing the ceremony and making the garlands.”
she explained before giving each of us a note to give to our parents.
She said we could leave but I loitered. I told her that I didn't want
to be the May Queen and she told me that it might not me, since it
could be any one of us. I told her that I didn't want to be one of
the Seven Sisters either. She asked me if I'd spoken to my parents
about it. I told her what they'd said. “Well it's important to do
things for others, and by the sounds of it, your mother has set her
heart on you being part of the May Queen ceremony.” she replied. We
discussed it further, in particular my worries about having to wear a
dress, but in a nutshell, I was told that it will be fun and that I
should be involved even if I don't want to be.

I left with my head
hung low. Mum beeped the car horn to alert me. I ran to the car and
climbed inside. “Did you have a nice time?” she asked.

“It was OK.” I
grumbled. I gave her the note and she read it, then she enquired
after the booklets I held. “It's a Brownie Handbook and a book with
all the different badges in.”

“Oh that's something
to work towards, you had quite a few badges in Cubs didn't you?”

“I got my stargazing
badge already.” I informed her.

“Really?” Mum
exclaimed. “That was quick... it took Judy weeks to get her first
Brownie badge and that was just for sweeping up!”

“Sweeping up?!” I
exclaimed before telling her about learning how to plait Jane's hair
in order to get my knot tying badge. Mum asked who Jane is. “She's
my Brownie Buddy.”

“Oh... she'll have
lots and lots of badges I expect?”

“Not really... the
Sixer and Second had loads though, almost a sleeve full.”

We arrived home and
both my Dad and sister wanted to know all about my first evening as a
Brownie. Judy asked the name of my pack and when I said Sprites, she
said I should have joined the Fairies. Suspecting she was taunting
me, I told her to shut up. Judy told me that she used to be in the
Fairy pack and could have taught me the rhymes and clapping games
that are unique to that pack. Mum suggested I apologise to my sister
for snapping at her when she was only trying to help. I mumbled my
apology before asking if I could get changed. “You may as well keep
it on until bedtime Peter.” Mum replied. “Anyway, it's nice
having a Brownie around the house.” she grinned. “You look lovely
in your little uniform.” she added, before suggesting I straighten
my socks. “He's been learning how to plait hair.” my mother
informed them.

“Have you?” Judy
asked. I coyly nodded and confessed to not being very good at it.
“Well you can practise on my hair if you want.” she offered. “You
won't get your knot tying badge if you can't plait hair.” she said.

“I know... we have to
be able to tie an apron properly too.” I mournfully replied.

I flicked through my
Brownie Handbook whilst my sister flicked through the badge book and
reminisced about being a Brownie herself. Apparently, Brownies is
much more fun than Girl Guides. “Cubs is better than Brownies.” I
muttered. My sister claimed the opposite was true, and cited the fact
that Brownies need to learn more knots than Cubs in order to get the
badge. I couldn't argue with that, but I did maintain that Cubs was
better on the grounds that we light fires, go camping, climbing,
canoeing and do all sorts of cool stuff. According to my sister,
Brownies do all that too and the Brownie Handbook confirmed this to
also be true. Regardless, I'd still rather be a Cub.

At
school the next day, seemingly everyone knew that I'd joined the
Brownies and as a result I received plenty of taunts and teases from
both the boys and the girls. The teacher quietened them down and
suggested that the boys were only jealous because they hadn't been
nominated to take part in the May Queen ceremony. I suspected that
they weren't jealous. If anything, they're relieved that it's me and
not one of them. I bumped into Andrew at lunch time. He's in the year
below me and told me that everyone knows about him being a Brownie.
“Me too.” I replied. “Are you going next week?” I asked.

“I have to.” he
grumbled.

“Is Brian?” I
asked. Brian is two years older than Andrew and is in his first year
at high school.

“We both have to.”
he replied. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” I groaned.
“I tried to get out of it but I can't... all I can hope for is that
I’m not chosen as May Queen.” I sighed. Andrew agreed and said
that involving boys was the worst idea ever. “Yeah.” I replied.
“But try telling my mum that.” I added. A couple of kids who go
to Cubs spotted Andrew and I chatting and one yelled something about
us being a couple of girls talking about being Brownies. “Come over
'ere and say that!” I yelled.

He did come over and he
did repeat himself, putting his nose inches from mine. My moment of
bravado crumbled into cowardice. I said nothing as I felt a fearful
expression sweep my face. “If you think you're coming back to Cubs
you'd better think again... we don't want girls like you in our
pack.” he said in a threatening tone. I gulped and backed away.
Andrew advised me to take no notice of him, before threatening that
he'd set his big brother Brian on him. The boys sneered at us. “I'd
like to see 'her' try.” one said before mocking the idle threat.
“Oooohh! He's going to set a Brownie on us... I’m so scared!”
They laughed as they retreated. They wouldn't have said that last
year when Brian was supposedly the second toughest in the whole
school.

When I arrived home,
Mum asked me if I’d had a nice day at school. I told her about
being constantly teased and taunted about joining the Brownies. Mum
told me to take no notice of them before suggesting that I have a go
at stitching my badges to my uniform. “Can't you do it?” I asked.

“I could, but if you
do it yourself you'll get your sewing badge.” she replied. I told
her I didn't know how to sew and she said she'd teach me. First, she
tacked my Sprite pack badge to the left chest of my brown Brownie
dress and quickly stitched it all the way around. Then she tacked the
other Sprite badge to the left sleeve and passed the dress to me. I
didn't do very well. Mum took over and stitched one side, then I
attempted to stitch the other three sides. Mum said it wasn't bad but
could be better, before tacking the stargazing badge onto the
other sleeve and passing it to me to finish. Although a bit wonky,
Mum described it as 'very good for a beginner'. “Are you going to
try it on?” she asked.

“Why?”

“To see how it looks
with the badges on.” she replied. “Plus...” she added, wielding
her instamatic camera, “...I'd love to get a photograph.” she
grinned.

I grimaced and frowned
but knew one thing; when Mum says she wants a photograph, there's no
getting out of it. . “OK.” I eventually mutter.

“Good boy.” she
said, passing me the brown sack like frock. I headed to my room, but
before I left the kitchen, my mother said “...and make sure you put
some knickers on.”

“Why?” I whined.
This is where my mother's logic and my own differ. To her, one simply
cannot wear a pair of underpants beneath a Brownie uniform. To me, it
doesn't make any difference, no one's going to see them so underpants
should be fine. Mum turned my logic around on me, and in a last ditch
attempt to get out of wearing them, I said “They're in the wash.”

“Really?” I gulped.
I went to my room and Mum was right; in the back of my underwear
drawer is a small pile of frilly white knickers alongside some
matching vests. With a trembling hand and a heavy heart, I removed a
pair of knickers and my heart sank even more when I found a name tag
had been stitched into them. I donned my sister's old Brownie uniform
for the second time. What worries me most is, now the uniform has my
badges on the sleeve, all of a sudden it feels like my uniform. I
returned downstairs and after straightening my socks, Mum took me
into the garden where there was enough light and a nice background.
She made me do the salute and took a photo. “Try to smile Peter!”
she said. She took another and then another, before she had me wear
the Brownie 'beanie' hat.

“We don't have to
wear this in summer.” I grumbled as I donned it.

“I know but it is
part of the uniform.” she replied before taking another two
photographs. Finally I was allowed to go back inside and change my
clothes. Mum suggested I keep my knickers on since they're clean. I
suggested otherwise. Mum told me that if I continued complaining at
every turn, then she'd take my underpants away and all I’d have is
knickers. “I'm sure Brian and Andrew don't complain like you do.”

“I'm sure they don't
have to wear knickers.” I retorted.

“I think you'll find
that they do Peter.” my mother replied. “I had a very interesting
chat with their mother after dropping you off last night.”

The conversation was
heading into territory that unnerved me so I didn't pursue it. I went
to my room and put some normal clothes on before putting my brownie
uniform on a hanger and hanging it in my wardrobe. Mum entered. “I
was about to tell you to that.” she said.

Sheepishly, I told her
that it says in my Brownie Handbook that our uniforms must be hung
when not being washed or worn. “It also says that we should learn
to iron them too.” I glumly added.

“Oh you don't have to
do that.” Mum replied. “I'd rather iron it myself than risk you
burning it.” Her eyes dropped to my feet and noticing them still
clad in the girlie pelerine socks, she asked if I'd kept the rest of
my underwear on. I nodded. “Good boy.” she said. I forced a
smile, before asking why she'd stitched my school name tags in them.
“So they don't get mixed up with Judy's.” she replied. “You
don't want to end up wearing her knickers by mistake do you?” she
asked. I gulped and shook my head.

“I thought as much.”
she said, ruffling my hair.

Over super, I told my
Dad and sister about being teased at school. Dad advised me to tell a
teacher if it gets too much. Judy empathised and said it should be OK
for boys to do girl things if they want to, since girls do plenty of
boy things and that's OK. Judy also suggested that I practice
plaiting her hair after supper. I wasn't so keen. Nor was I keen on
wearing an apron whilst I washed the dishes, one with a nice neat
bow. After drying and putting away the dishes, I went to my room but
Judy intercepted me on the landing. Again she suggested I plait her
hair and practically pulled me into her bedroom. “I can't do it.”
I moaned.

“Which is why you
need to practise... then you'll get your badge.” she replied.

“I know but...” I
muttered. “...I'll just make a mess of it.” I claimed before
describing how wonky Jane's plait was when I’d done hers at
Brownies. Again my sister told me I need to practise. I claimed I'd
feel silly trying to plait my sister's hair.

Judy is a teenager but
she does have a few relics left over from her childhood. “Tell you
what...” she said as she reached toward her bookshelf. “...you
can practice on Rapunzel instead.” she suggested, handing me the
doll. The idea of practising on a doll sent shivers down my spine, so
I reluctantly agreed to practising on my sister. First I gently
pulled the brush through it, then embarked on the fiddly task of
plaiting. It's not easy but after a few tries I did improve. Judy
suggested I plait her hair every night before bed. I agreed, but only
until I’m good enough to get my knot tying badge. She also offered
to loan me her Rapunzel doll so I could practise when ever I like,
but I declined. It's bad enough having knickers in my drawer and a
Brownie uniform in my wardrobe... I don't want a doll in my room as
well!

The taunting and
teasing about being a Brownie and/or a potential May Queen did begin
to wear off by the end of the week. A couple of kids regularly tease
me rather than half the class, which is bearable I suppose. When it's
all over they'll soon forget and I'll be able to put this whole
ghastly experience behind me.

I arrived home on
Friday afternoon looking forward to two days of no school. I was
feeling quite chirpy until Mum proudly showed the photographs she'd
just had developed. There's five in total of me wearing my Brownie
uniform. The first looks like a mug shot, my expressionless face
looks gormless and glum. The second was an attempted smile but is
more of a grimace. In the third photo I’m just bearing my teeth and
in the forth I've just donned the beanie hat and my hands are all
blurry. But in the fifth photograph, the one which my mother
described as 'by far the best', shows me smiling sweetly and looking
like a very happy Brownie.

“Oh don't put it
there Mum.” I moaned when she put it in a frame and placed it
alongside my Cub Scout picture. “...everyone can see it!”

“So?” she shrugged
as she repositioned the frame ever so slightly. “Hopefully we'll
have one of you as May Queen to go alongside it.” she grinned.

“God I hope hot.” I
grumbled.

“Now now Peter...
Brownies don't blaspheme.” she said, smiling and jovially wagging
her finger. “Do you want to help me make supper?” she asked.

“I guess.” I
replied. It's not rare for Mum to get us helping with supper on
occasion, and just like when she wants a photograph, she won't accept
no for an answer. “Do I have to wear that?” I grimaced when she
passed me Judy's apron.

Mum nodded and said she
wanted to see how well I can fasten its strings. “Not bad for a
boy.” she said as she faffed with the bow. I spent half an hour
'helping' Mum make supper, although I did little more than pass her
things and watch. I braced myself when my Dad and sister returned
home, fully expecting them to comment on my frilly apron, but they
didn't mention it. It was a relief when I finally removed it because
it really did look like a white summery skirt. They did mention the
new photograph though and it soon transpired that I'm the only one
who doesn't think it's great.

On
Sunday we went for a family day out to Dinkdale Crag. It's a beauty
spot we visit regularly so Judy and I run ahead whilst Mum and Dad
saunter slowly behind. Judy and I were larking about, scrambling over
rocks and climbing trees when she exclaimed “Are you wearing
knickers?” I instantly became coy and evasive. “You are aren't
you?” she said. “They better not be mine!”

“Get off!” I yelped
as she grabbed at my top. “They're mine... Mum bought me them for
Brownies.” I confessed. The only reason I’m wearing them today is
because I didn't have any clean underpants in my drawer, and the
likely reason for my sister spotting them is because unlike my
undies, all my knickers have a really high waist trimmed with elastic
lace.

“Sorry... I didn't
mean to tease.” Judy claimed. “I was just surprised, that's all.”
she added, before saying that it's 'quite sweet' that I wear knickers
too. I said I’d rather not talk about it. Judy apologised again.

As usual, we clambered
all the way to the top of the crag where we'd enjoy the view of the
valley whilst waiting for Mum and Dad to take the slow route to the
top. It's towards the end of March and the weather is changeable. We
set off with fleece tops on but by the time we'd reached the top of
the crag we were both building up a sweat. Judy removed her fleece
top to reveal a vest. She advised me to follow suit. “Nah.” I
replied in spite of feeling too warm for comfort. “Because I've
only got a vest on and I don't like not having a top on.”
was my reason. Judy said I could just wear the vest. “It's a girl's
vest.” I grumbled.

“Oh... I see.” she
replied. “Well, just take your top off for a minute or two 'til you
cool down... no one will see.”

“You will.”

“I've already seen
your knickers Peter.” she reminded me.

Shyly I removed my
fleece to reveal a white vest with lacy trim and a little bow
stitched in the centre of the chest. After a minute or two of
enjoying the breeze on my shoulders, Judy asked if I felt better. “A
bit.” I replied, glancing around nervously. “I'm just worried
that people might think I’m a girl.”

Judy glanced around.
“Well, there's no one here so you've nothing to worry about.” she
said. “Anyway, wouldn't you rather people think you're a girl than
a boy with a girl's vest on?”

“I dunno.” I
grumbled. “I guess.” I said. “Not that that'll ever happen coz
I've got short hair.” I suggested. Then something dawned on me. “I
hope we wear wigs at the May Queen parade. We're going to look stupid
if we're dressed like girls with short boy's hair!”

“Plenty of girls have
short hair.” Judy replied. “It's called a pixie cut.” she told
me. “Anyway I don't think you'll look stupid... you look cute in
your Brownie uniform so you'll look even better in a proper dress.”

“I only look cute in
one photo. I look stupid in all the others.”

“Only because you
were pulling faces.” Judy claimed. “You can look cute when you
want to.”

“But I don't want to
look cute.” I stated. “I don't want to go to Brownies or be the
May Queen but everyone says I have to.”

“That's because
everyone will be so proud of you if are the May Queen... of course
its a bit weird having boys in the parade but there's a first time
for everything.” my sister said. “You could be the world's very
first May Queen who's not a girl... you could be on Record Breakers!
Imagine that?!”

“It'd be horrible.”
I claimed. “Everyone's taking the mickey out of me as it is.”

“Not everyone.”
Judy retorted. “You said the girls at Brownies were OK.”

“Yeah but it's the
boys at school mostly.” I replied before describing some of the
taunts both I and Andrew have received.

“Enjoying the sun?”
our mother's voice called. We turned to see our parents approach. “We
thought you'd lost your brother and found a new friend for minute
Judy.” Dad said as he grinned at me. “Don't put your top back on
on our account.” he said as I began to do just that. He cast his
eyes to the skies. “It is warm today.” he stated.

“Its windy too.” I
added as my head popped out of my fleece top. Judy agreed and put her
top back on. Mum and Dad savoured the view for a short while before
we headed back down to Dinkdale itself. Dad and I ended up walking a
few paces behind Mum and Judy and he cautiously asked me if I was
looking forward to going to Brownies this week. “Sort of... not
really... it's just like Cubs really but...” was my stuttered
reply.

“It's full of girls?”
Dad suggested.

“Yeah... they're OK I
guess... it'd be better if I didn't have dress like them.”

“Well... when in
Rome.” Dad said. “Plus, you get the chance to prove that boys are
just as good as girls... I think you'll be a better May Queen than
that chubby girl last year.” he added in a slightly mischievous
tone. “...but don't tell your mother I said that.”

The poor girl, I
thought. She wasn't that chubby but her dress was too small. The
photograph in the paper wasn't very flattering. “It'd be better if
they just changed it to the May King, then I wouldn't have to do any
of this girlie stuff.” I said after a moment's thought.

“True.” Dad
replied. “But it's OK when Judy does 'boy' things like climbing
trees or clambering up the crag or playing Scalextric... surely it
should be just as OK when a boy does 'girl' things” he said. “Like
Billy Elliot doing ballet.” he added.

“I suppose.” I
grumbled. As we walked the woodland trail, I thought about my sister
who, for a girl, does do loads of 'boy' things. She's been proper
rock climbing and abseiling too. She even does stunts on her BMX. She
also goes to a tap dancing class, gets giddy over dresses and spends
way too much time in front of the mirror. She's part tom-boy, part
girlie-girl... or maybe she's just a normal girl? I don't know. What
I do know is that since I was nominated as a potential May Queen and
was subsequently transferred from Cubs to Brownies, I don't feel like
a normal boy any more.

On
Tuesday I went to Brownies for the second time. Brian and Andrew were
there too and all three of us had to show our new badges to Brown
Owl. She asked if we'd stitched them on ourselves and both Brian and
Andrew said yes. I said my Mum had tacked them on and I’d stitched
them. Brown Owl smiled and said I’d done just as good a job as any
Brownie. Tawny Owl asked if I'd learned to plait hair and tie a neat
and even bow in an apron. “Kind of.” I replied, before being
asked to fetch an apron to demonstrate, then plaiting Jane's long
blond hair.

“Very good.” she
said. “What do you think girls?” she asked.

They all agreed that my
plaiting skills had improved enough to ensure I get the knot tying
badge. I felt ever so slightly proud of myself but that soon faded as
the activities began; after separating into our Sixes we got out the
tables and learned to fold napkins and lay the table. God it was
boring, I thought. Why are we even learning this?

It was as if Brown Owl
had read my mind because with that very thought, the began telling
the group how we can help our mothers by laying the table for them
whilst they're busy cooking. “You won't realise until you're
mothers yourselves just how much work needs to be done... so please
Brownies, be helpful and always offer to lend a hand whenever your
mother is busy.” she said. Then the inevitable happened and someone
dropped a teacup. We gasped as it smashed to the ground and the girl
responsible apologised profusely. “It's OK Polly.” Brown Owl
assured. “These things happen.” she said, before asking Polly
what should be done when some crockery has been broken. “Very good
Polly. Did you hear that girls?” she asked before reiterating
Polly's reply. She glanced around the girl's faces until she found
mine. She asked who my Brownie Buddy was and I replied. Addressing
Jane directly, Brown Owl asked her to take me to fetch a dustpan and
brush and it was I who cleared up the breakage under the watchful eye
and frequent instruction of my Sixer and Second (AKA Melanie and
Vanessa). I was wondering why I was clearing the breakage and not the
girl who'd dropped it, but all became clear at the end of the meeting
when I was awarded not only my sewing badge, my knot tying
badge and my laying a table badge, but my sweeping up
badge too.

Before long the others
left and eight of us stayed behind. Brown Owl described the
procession which is partly on a float where we'll be sitting, smiling
and waving, then the Seven Sisters will be on foot accompanying the
May Queen's carriage and walking whilst smiling and waving. “...but
it's a bit more complicated than that.” Brown Owl said. “I want
you walking so gracefully that you'll be almost dancing.” She
demonstrated what she wanted us to do by walking slowly around the
hall, her arms and hands accentuated every slow graceful turn. “Head
held high, broad Brownie smiles... and should you receive a
bouquet...” she said.

“Oh God.” I thought
as she slowly yet gracefully pranced around the hall. Even the girls
seemed a little daunted by what she had in mind. After twenty minutes
of trying to emulate her elegant dancelike walk, I began to think
that maybe being the May Queen might not be so bad after all. All she
does is sit on a chair whilst the rest of us will be prancing about,
curtseying and laying bouquets of flowers at her feet. After thirty
minutes we left. Dad was waiting for me in the car. He asked me what
we'd been doing so I told him in my driest, most honest voice.
“Folding napkins, laying the table, cleaning up broken crockery,
playing balloon volleyball, then learning how to walk gracefully, how
to curtsey and how to hold a bunch of flowers.”

“Oh dear.” Dad
said. “I'm sure you'll be lighting fires before long.... and your
mother will be pleased that you've learned to lay the table.”

I really wasn't proud
of them but when we got home, I showed my mother the new Brownie
badges I’d earned. Mum was extremely proud that I’d got four more
badges to stitch on to my uniform. I asked her if she'd stitched them
on this time, but Mum said I should do it myself. “Ooh but you're
better than me, and quicker.” I said. “Anyway I've already got my
sewing badge.” I added.

“All good reasons why
you should do it Peter.” my mother replied. “The more you
practise, the better and quicker you'll get.” she added. “What
did you do after Brownies? Was it fun?” she asked.

“Not really.” I
grumbled before describing what we did, or tried to do.

“Hmm... doesn't sound
very engaging.” Mum frowned before suggesting that it should become
more fun the closer we get to the event.

“I just want it to
all be over.”

“I can understand
that.” Mum relied. She looked into my eyes and smiled at me, before
saying “It's an improvement on you not wanting to do it.”

I went to my room to
find something to do between now and bedtime. I perched on my bed and
straightened my knee socks before digging into my pocket and removing
the four small badges. We had some lame badges in Cub Scouts such as
the sewing badge, but none so underwhelming as a sweeping
up badge. “Whatcha got there?” my sister's voice said. I
looked up to see her leant against the door frame. “More badges?”
she asked.

“Yeah.” I replied.
She stepped into my room and perched besides me. “They're not
'good' ones.” I said as she peered into the palm of my hand.

“Well they're better
than nothing.” she said. “I remember being proud as Punch when I
got my first Brownie badge... it took me weeks.” she told me,
before congratulating me on earning so many after attending only two
meetings.

I told her that Brian
and Andrew also gained their table laying and sewing
badges this evening, and also got two last week. “I think they're
being generous because we're boys.” I assumed.

“Hmm... I don't
know.” she said. “They don't just hand them out willy nilly.”

“Maybe.” I said.
“What other badges did you have?” I asked.

“Er...” Judy began
before listing those she could recall. I grabbed my Brownie Badge
book and began flicking through it. The images of all the badges
jogged her memory and she could recall a few more. I enquired as to
what she did to get the 'helper', 'agility', 'shopping' and
'conversation' badges. Judy grinned and corrected me. “That's
conservation... protecting the countryside.” she informed me. “A
group of us helped clear a load of hog-weed from the canal bank.”

“Sounds boring...
just clearing weeds.”

“Yeah but it was
fun... and I liked the little panda patch.” she replied, tapping he
finger nail on the image. She went on to tell me about the other
badges. “We helped out in an old people's home to get the helper
badge; cleaning, tidying, making cups of tea, washing dishes,
chatting, that sort of thing.” she said. “Agility is
jumping, skipping, vaulting, doing cartwheels and stuff... and
shopping is self explanatory.”

“What... you just buy
some shopping and get a badge?” I asked.

“Well... you're given
a list and have to go to the greengrocers, butchers, bakers,
fishmongers, haberdashery, homeware and hardware store to get
everything in all the correct weights so you don't go over budget.”
she explained. “It's not just a case of buying some sweets.” she
said, turning her head toward the door. “Hi Mum.”

“Hi.” Mum smiled.
“I must say... it's nice seeing you two sitting together and
talking instead of bickering and sniping.” she told us.

“We were just looking
at the badge book.” I said. Mum asked me which one I hoped to get
next. “I don't know.” I shrugged. “The same ones as my Cub
badges I guess.” I suggested. I don't want an arm full of easy
badges such as sewing, sweeping and laying the table... I want
pathfinder, map reader, fire maker, climber and the like.

“Hey do you want to
borrow my old Brownie books?” Judy asked.

“I've got my own.”
I said, pointing out my handbook and badge book.

“I don't mean those
ones.” Judy replied before exiting and returning a moment later
with two Brownie annuals, the Brownie Adventure Book, the
Brownie Book of Things to Do and Fun Crafts for Brownies
and Guides. I took them from her and thanked her. “You've got
to look after them.” she said.

“I will.” I
replied, knowing that I probably wouldn't even open them. Mum gave me
a glance and prompted me to say 'thank you'.

“You're welcome.”
Judy smiled. “It's nice that we've got something in common, even if
I'm not a Brownie any more.” she added.

She left and so did
Mum. I looked down at my uniform and pale pinky knees again, then at
the pile of Brownie books besides me. One the cover of one of the
annuals is a group of Brownies around a selection of flags from
around the world. One of them appears to have short hair and I wonder
if she, like me is really a boy. I begin to flick through the pages
filled with Brownie propaganda, puzzles, stories, craft ideas,
stories from summer camp and all sorts of other things. My eyes
linger on a page titled Be the best Brownie you can be. It
tells us to wash our hands and faces every morning and every night,
how to trim our finger nails and why we shouldn't bite them, why we
need to brush our hair one hundred times before going to bed, how to
polish our shoes and belt, how to wear a ribbon, slide, clip or band
in our hair. “In order to do her best, a Brownie needs to look her
best.” it states, “...so practice your big bright Brownie smile
ten times a day because nobody likes a miserable face.” I cast my
mind back to the Brownie meeting and all the times we were encouraged
to smile. It was same afterwards when trying to walk/prance with
grace... we were encouraged to spend every moment smiling and
reminded that 'everyone' will be watching us on the day of the
parade.

At school the next day,
one of my former Cub pals asked if I’d enjoyed Brownies last night,
before telling everyone that he'd seen me and that I was wearing the
uniform and that I looked 'a right sissy'. Half the class giggled and
sniggered at me but knowing that all of the class knew that I'd
joined the Brownies last week, I suggested he tell them something
they don't know. “Did you dance around the toadstool?” he asked
in a sneering tone.

“No.” I replied.

“Bet you did...
sissy!”

“We don't have a
toadstool.” one of the girls stated. She's the one girl in my class
who's in the same Brownie troop, although I don't know her very well
at all. The boy claimed that all Brownies have a toadstool and that
all Brownies dance around it, like 'prissy sissy girls'. “Well,
you're wrong.” the girl retorted. “Our Brown Owl is progressive
and we don't dance around a magic toadstool.” she stated, before
suggesting he join.

“Only girls join the
Brownies!” I blurted, just as our form teacher entered the class.
“And I'm not a girl!” he added.

“You know full well
that boys can join the Brownies these days Michael.” the teacher
stated. “Now if you're teasing people for going to Brownies, maybe
I should write to your mother and suggest she enrols you?” she
said, causing everyone to giggle. That shut him up.

The following week, Mum
took me to Brownies but instead of going in the car, we walked. It
was a nerve racking experience since the route took me past several
of my classmate's homes. We did activities and played games, then
after Brownies had finished and our May Day practice began, Brown Owl
wheeled in a video player and monitor because she had a video that
she wanted us to watch. A few of us groaned when the footage of the
Disneyworld Princess Parade began to play “See how the princesses
are walking... that's how I want you to walk when you accompany the
May Queen's carriage; with grace, elegance, always smiling and waving
and almost dancing.” Brown Owl told us. We spend the next
twenty minutes practising the dance-like walk, but we showed little
improvement. I guess we're mostly too shy and too self conscious;
girls included.

The next day at school,
a handful of my classmates took great pleasure in telling the rest of
the class that they'd actually seen me wearing my brownie uniform.
“He ever had white knee socks on!” one announced, before
speculating that I was probably wearing knickers too. I neither
confirmed nor denied this. Instead, I continued to insist that I’m
only going because I have to go and maintained that I don't want to
be any part of the May Queen parade. “Well in that case... don't do
it!” was the advise given.

“But I have to.” I
groaned.

I can't
wait to break up for Easter and have a couple of week's respite from
the taunts and teases I receive at school. To any ten year old, two
weeks of no school feels like a good few months so we all looked
forward to it. No school also means no Brownies, but we do all have
to go to Church and Sunday School on Easter Sunday (this was also the
case when I went to Cubs). The letter Mum received from Brown Owl
stated that we should attend wearing either our uniform or best
dress. I wasn't happy about wearing my uniform to church, but when
mum suggested us having a look through Judy's old clothes to see if
there was nice dress I could borrow, wearing my uniform didn't seem
so bad after all. Apart from the religious shenanigans, chocolate
eggs and epic bank holiday movies, Easter also involves a couple of
family gatherings. On Good Friday we went to my Uncle and Aunt's
house for a barbecue in the garden where my involvement in the May
Queen parade was a hot topic, as was me attending Brownies instead of
Cubs. Predictably, the girls thought it was great that a boy is doing
'girl' things but the boys seemed puzzled and bemused.

On Easter Sunday I
donned my Brownie uniform for the annual Easter service. Mum, Dad and
Judy also attended and I joined the rest of the Brownies. Some wore
their uniform whilst others wore 'Sunday' dresses, and no one was
more surprised than I when Brian and his younger brother Andrew
arrived wearing Sunday dresses too! I quizzed them about why they
didn't wear their uniforms and glumly, they told me that they
'always' wear a dress on a Sunday. “It's one of Mum's rules.”
Andrew added before telling me that this is the first time they've
worn their dresses in such a public place. It wouldn't have been so
bad for them if it was just Brownies and Guides in attendance, but
the Cubs, Scouts and plenty of other local kids attended church on
Easter Sunday too. The fact that I attended wearing my Brownie
uniform was somewhat over shadowed by Brian and Andrew's dresses.

I paid more attention
to Brian and Andrew than the teacher as we endured the boredom of
Sunday school. Each wears an identical dress in all but size; cream
in colour with a sparse floral print of pink blooms with green
foliage. The sleeves are short and puffed, the collar is broad and
white, trimmed with lace. Beneath their skirts I spy petticoats, and
their legs are clad in thin white tights. On their feet is pair of
low heeled strappy sandals and each carries an identical off-white
handbag. Neither looks too happy about their attire and if it was me,
I don't think I’d be too chuffed either.

As the boys sat through
the annual Sunday school class with the rest of their Brownie pack,
their mothers wait outside, chatting. Peter's mother is impressed to
learn that Brian and Andrew's dresses are entirely handmade by their
mother, who proudly states “I make most of their dresses.”

“I wouldn't know
where to start.” Peter's mother replied. “I did suggest he wears
one of his sister's old dresses today but... he wanted to wear his
uniform.”

“So did Brian and
Andrew... they feared they'd be the only ones not in uniform but
quite a few turned up in proper dresses.”

“Thankfully Peter
isn't the only one in uniform either... but I would like to see him
wearing a proper dress, I think he's just reluctant.” she said,
before asking if she had a preference as to which of her sons might
be crowned May Queen.

“To be honest dear...
I have a feeling it'll be neither of them.” their mother replied.
“Allowing boys to be involved is a welcome break from tradition but
I suspect that tradition will prevail and the May Queen will be a
girl.”

“I suspect the
opposite to be honest.” Peter's mother retorted. “A boy will be
May Queen simply because a boy can be May Queen.”

“Possibly.” their
mother replied. “If that is the case then I hope it's Peter.” she
claimed, explaining that she doesn't want one of her boys to feel
left out should the other be chosen as May Queen.

“I hope it's Peter
too.” his mother stated. “But that's a mother's prerogative.”
she bashfully added. “This looks like them now.” she said as the
children began to filter out of the church hall.

“Where's Dad and
Judy?” I asked as we joined our mothers.

Mum told me he'd taken
her home after the Easter service, before bidding Brian, Andrew and
their mother farewell and telling the boys how lovely they both look.
Bashfully they thanked her and we went our respective ways. Mum
informed me that Brian and Andrew wear dresses every Sunday, and I
told Mum that I already knew, adding “They don't like wearing them
much.”

“It's nice that they
do though.” Mum replied. “Their mum makes them herself you know.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. She also
says that by giving them a bit of girl-time helps them to not be too
boisterous or unruly the rest of the time.” she informed be.
“Apparently Brian was getting a reputation for being a bit of a
bully at junior school, so when he started secondary school she began
their weekly petticoating regime.”

“Weekly what?” I
asked.

“Petticoating
regime... putting boys in pretty dresses.” she replied.

“I wouldn't like that
very much.”

“You wear your
Brownie uniform once a week.” Mum replied. “That's not so bad is
it?”

“You'll be wearing a
proper dress for the May Queen parade.” Mum reminded me.

Easter Monday meant a
trip to my grandparent's house for a special roast dinner. Mum got a
print made of my Brownie photo and took it to give them. Nana said I
looked very sweet but didn't hesitate in pointing out the fact that I
wore boy's shoes. My Grandfather, on the other hand, said I looked
like a girl and questioned why I'd joined the Brownies at all. Mum
and Nana explained that it's because I’m going to be part of the
May Queen parade and possibly the May Queen herself. Granddad felt it
was too out of the ordinary and muttered something about 'in my day'
it'd never be allowed. Dad told him that the world is changing. “No
one bats and eyelid when Judy goes rock climbing or plays football,
so in this day and age, it's fine for boys to do girl things if they
want to.” I should have piped up myself and made it clear that I
don't want to do any girl things, especially take part in the May
Queen parade... but with so many people encouraging me, I felt the
right thing to was to keep my feelings to myself. It'll all be over
before long, I reminded myself.

The
rest of the Easter break was filled with playing with my pals and
going for family days out to the coast and countryside. My pals don't
seem to mind the fact that I go to Brownies. Of course they teased me
at first but they've kind of got used to it, as have I. When school
resumed after the two week holiday, my classmates wasted no time in
reminding me that they'd seen me at church wearing my Brownie
uniform, which left those who haven't seen me wearing it in the
minority. They also made fun of the fact that I was with Brian and
Andrew Preston and they were both wearing dresses, with tights and
girl's shoes too. I expect Brian and Andrew are experiencing the same
treatment, or worse, since they both wore 'proper' dresses on Easter
Sunday. I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like
having to wear girl's shoes with heels, tights, petticoats and pretty
dresses in front of so many familiar faces. Come May Day I'll find
out, I suppose.

Brownies resumed on
Tuesday, as did our preparations for the May Queen parade afterwards.
Tawny Owl showed us how to make paper flowers which would ultimately
be threaded together to form garlands that would decorate the float
and throne. We half filled a huge plastic tub with all the paper
flowers we'd made. There must have been almost a hundred of them.
Brown Owl praised our work and told us we'd need hundreds more, but
right now, we need to practise for the parade itself. We spent the
last ten minutes prancing around the hall in an uncomfortably
ladylike manner. “Stop looking at your feet Brian!” Brown Old
advised. “Smile Janet … Very nice Wendy … Head up Clare …
Slow down Paula or you'll get dizzy!” she'd say. “Keep an eye on
Wendy.” she suggested. Wendy was almost waltzing whilst the rest of
us meandered around. We moved our hands and arms around whilst she
gestured with elegance and grace. Wendy goes to ballet, it
transpired... no wonder she's a natural when it comes to this elegant
prancing malarkey. As we all prepared to leave, Brown Owl and Wendy
were chatting.

Mum was waiting in the
car and asked if I'd had a nice time. I told her it was OK. She asked
if I'd earned any new badges, I shook my head. “Oh that's a shame.”
Mum said. “Maybe next week eh?”

I informed her that we
don't get a new badge every week and that Brian, Andrew and myself
probably only got so many so quickly just to help us fit in and feel
like part of the group. I told her about the paper flowers we'd been
making and how they'll be made in to garlands, and how we had to
practice our prancing again. “Why we can't just walk normally I've
no idea.”

“Because it's a
parade.” Mum replied. “Anyway, if you are the May Queen you'll
spend much of the parade sitting down.” she added.

“Yeah.” I glumly
agreed. “Now I know what the Seven Sisters have to do, I think I'd
prefer being the May Queen.”

“That's good to
hear.” Mum said. “I've got my heart set on that.”

As usual, I spent the
remainder of the evening milling around the house wearing my Brownie
uniform. Mum said it was 'sweet' how I keep tending to my white knee
socks, making sure the tops are even and the patterns are straight.
“How's about we go shopping on Saturday for some new shoes?” she
suggested.

“OK.” I said. The
toes of my brown school shoes are getting a bit scuffed. However come
Saturday, it quickly transpires that Mum wants to buy me some new
shoes to wear for Brownies and not for school. She was keen on me
getting some T bar sandals because they're a unisex style, but I’m
yet to see a boy over the age of six wearing them. Mum browsed around
all the high street stores before taking me back to the first one to
try on the style she liked the best. They're clearly girl's shoes,
having heart shaped details cut out of the toe section, a detail that
is echoed with a heart shaped silver buckle too. The lady in the
Debenham's school wear department asked if I was a petticoatee. Mum
told her that I wasn't but she did tell her that I've recently joined
the Brownies, which is why I’m getting girl's shoes. The correct
size was boxed and given to my mother who wanted to browse the rest
of the department before paying. “What's a petticoatee?” I asked.

“A boy who wears
girl's clothes.” Mum replied. “Brian and Andrew are petticoatees
because they both wear dresses every Sunday.” she reminded me.
“Would you like some new undies?” she asked, picking a pack of
girl's 'boy' shorts from the display.

“I'd rather have
boy's undies.” I said. Mum said I’ve got plenty of boys undies
and claimed that girl's are nicer. “I know but I’ve got loads of
girl's ones too.” I claimed.

“You've not got that
many.” Mum said. She picked me up a pack of socks too; white, knee
high and clearly very girlie. I'd have preferred boy's socks but I
don't mind my girlie ones so much... I only wear them with my Brownie
uniform and I know that boy's socks wouldn't look right.

When we got home, Mum
had me try on my new shoes. Dad said they were 'smart' and Judy said
they looked 'cute'. Mum unpacked my new knickers and admired a pair.
Then she routed in a drawer for my roll of name tags, cut seven off,
gave me a needle and some thread and told me to stitch one into the
back of each pair. “Can't you do it?” I asked.

“You're perfectly
capable of sewing them in yourself Peter.” she replied. “You can
do it in your room if you prefer.”

I did prefer, but even
in the solitude of my bedroom I felt like I was betraying my boyhood
as I stitched my name into a pair of frilly white knickers. When I'd
done all seven pairs, I put them in my drawer and made the
uncomfortable realisation that I now have more pairs of knickers than
I do undies.

After
the next Brownie meeting, we concentrated on making more paper
flowers with which to decorate the float and thankfully didn't do any
prancing practice, but at the end of the session, Brown Owl did make
an uncomfortable announcement. “I've got some excellent news
girls... Wendy's ballet teacher has agreed to coach you all in the
art of graceful walking.” She handed out a letter for us to give to
our parents, and explained that we've been offered a free class, one
hour a week for the next four weeks at Miss Jarovski's School of
Ballet. “Don't worry if you don't have any dancewear...” she
said, glancing at the three boys. “...because the procession fund
can pay for that.”

When Mum collected me,
I gave her the letter and with a heavy heart said, “I have to go to
ballet on Saturday.”

“Oh how lovely!”
Mum said. “Will you have to wear a tutu?”

“I hope not.” I
moaned. My parents and sister have all told me that it's fine for
boys to do girl things if they want to. But going to ballet is just
another thing the kids at school can tease me about, I figured. When
we got home, Mum read the letter properly and wasted no time in
measuring me and telephoning Brown Owl with my sizes.

Saturday arrived and
since Mum and Dad were busy, my big sister Judy accompanied me to
Miss Jarovski's School of Ballet. We arrived and were met by Wendy in
the foyer who wears a pink leotard with white tights and pink ballet
shoes. She's in charge of our dance wear and from a large plastic
box, she retrieved a carrier bag with my name written on it before
directing me to the changing rooms. It came as a huge relief to
discover that my leotard wasn't pink like Wendy's. I sheepishly
emerged feeling like a rank amateur. I'd donned the white tights and
black leotard, but the shoes hung from my trembling fingers because I
wasn't sure how to tie them. Wendy sat me on a bench and tied them
for me. “The others didn't know either.” she told me before
looking up at my sister and asking if she was staying for the
duration. Judy was, so it was she accompanied me to studio number 3
whilst Wendy waited for the others.

Inside was Janet,
Claire and Amanda as well as their mothers; all sat chatting on a
bench whilst the girls chatted amongst themselves. I was disappointed
that Brian and Andrew weren't here yet as that makes me the only boy
in studio number 3. I sheepishly
sauntered over and said hello, before introducing my sister to them.
I felt like such a dork in my black strappy leotard and thick white
tights, but so did the girls. It was a small relief to learn that
they felt as self conscious as I did. We loitered nervously for a
while until the others arrived. I coyly greeted Brian and Andrew
before looking nervously at Miss Jarovski; a tall slim woman who
wears a purple leotard, a thin see-through skirt and woolly leg
warmers. She clapped her hands and welcomed us, collectively
referring to us as 'girls'. “They're not all
girls!” Amanda's mother said in a dry tone.

Miss
Jarovski gave her a look of disdain, before telling the parents and
Judy that they were welcome to stay and watch our dance class, and
asked them not to interrupt the class. She lined us all up,
making sure we were stood upright, still and attentive before giving
us a brief lecture about ballet. “I'm not going to teach you point,
pirouette or a perfect jetté,
but you will learn the basics...” She went on for a while using
terminology that meant little to most of us. She also demonstrated
the moves and I've never been so disinterested. After a short warm
up, we learned the basic positions and I know that I wasn't alone in
feeling like a complete dork. Apart from Wendy, we all felt out of
place and the moves we were practising seemed to bear no relevance to
the prancing we're here to learn. Having my sister sitting at the
edge of the studio, watching my every move and smiling wryly didn't
help either... nor does the huge mirror on one wall, in which I
witness every dorky position. I'll never know what Billy Elliot saw
in this. After half an hour of what I assumed was 'proper' yet very
basic ballet, Miss Jarovski and Wendy demonstrated our next lesson;
the art of graceful walking... but before we could have a try, we
were each given a tutu! Thankfully it wasn't big flat tutu but the
style that's called a 'romantic' tutu. It falls a good few inches
below the knee, is very light and very see through. It swishes and
sways with every movement as we try to follow Miss Jarovski's
direction. She counts a slow time signature, instructing and
encouraging us all the way. “One two three, one two three, very
good Claire, one two three, one two three, one two three,
grace-fu-ly, beautiful, one two three...” and on and on we went. We
were only there for an hour but it seems that time moves very slowly
in a ballet class. Thankfully it was finally over and Judy took me
home. My sister used words like sweet and cute to describe my ballet
class whilst I used words such as boring and stupid. Mum preferred
Judy's perspective and said she couldn't wait until next Saturday
when she'd be taking me instead.

With little more than
four weeks until the May Day celebrations, things stepped up a notch
or two. The procession route had been confirmed and the two floats
had been secured; one is a flat bed truck on which we'd all be sat,
the other a horse drawn carriage alongside which the seven sister's
would do their dance like walk whilst receiving bouquets of flowers
to lay at the May Queen's feet.

At my next Brownie
meeting we were all awarded the dancer badge which features an
embroidered ballerina. I was also awarded the fire and map
reader to my collection so at least I had some 'cool' badges to
stitch to my sleeve. After Brownies we continued making the garlands
and other décor for the procession and on Saturday morning I
returned to the yawn inducing ballet class. Mum accompanied me and
went all gooey when I exited the changing room wearing my leotard.
Afterwards, she talked endlessly about how much she enjoyed watching
us. “You seemed to enjoy it after a while.”

“It's really boring.”
I whined. “Especially doing the five positions for like... ever.”

“Well practice makes
perfect.” she replied.

The following week my
mother took her camera. I wasn't impressed and suggested that Miss
Jarovski might not let her take photographs. Mum told me that she'd
already asked and assured me that it's OK. “Great.” I thought.
“Just don't put one in a frame where everyone can see it.” I
requested.

The class began and
followed the same routine as before; warm up and stretch followed by
the five positions (for ages and ages) then prancing, curtseying and
pretending to receive bouquets. “Remember to smile girls.” Miss
Jarovski frequently reminded us as we gracefully pranced around the
studio. We all felt uncomfortable except for Wendy, but thanks to the
attractive, engaging and exotic Miss Jarovski, we did begin to feel a
bit more competent and confident whilst doing the slow graceful walk
that Brown Owl feels is so important.

Predictably, my mother
enthusiastically asked if I'd enjoyed myself as she drove me home.
“It was OK I guess.” I glumly replied, before admitting that I
don't feel quite so much of a dork as I did to begin with. “I wish
she wouldn't keep saying 'smile girls', 'gracefully girls', 'well
done girls'” I moaned. “It's obvious that three of us are boys.”

Mum suggested that I
shouldn't worry about it and reminded me that we're collectively
referred to as 'girls' at Brownies too. “At the end of the day, the
May Queen parade is a girl's event, so it sort of makes sense.”

“No it doesn't.” I
retorted. “Judy doesn't get called a boy when she does boy things.”

“True.” Mum
replied. “I suppose it's a case of when in Rome.” she
added.

“Yeah I guess.” I
muttered. The route home took us along the town's main street.
Bunting for the May Day celebrations is already going up and it won't
be too long before I'm taking part in the May Queen parade. The more
I think about having to perform the slow fancy prance all the way
down the Main Street, receiving bouquets of flowers and executing
numerous curtseys in front of my classmates, friends and
neighbours... the more I think I’d rather be the May Queen than one
of the Seven Sisters. All she has to do is sit, smile and wave.

We arrived home and Dad
was in the lounge reading the Saturday broadsheet. He dropped its
corner, threw me a smile and asked how my ballet class went.
“Boring.” I moaned. He asked what I was up to now. “Nothing
much.” I replied. “Can I put the TV on?” I asked.

“Sure.” he replied,
passing me the remote control.

There wasn't much on so
I sat through the weekly sports round up which included soccer
highlights, cycling, tennis, snooker and the Argentinian rally. “I
think I’d like to be a rally driver when I grow up.” I said as
the powerful cars churned their way through a rugged landscape.
Saying that, the coverage switched to the Chinese Grand Prix and I
said I’d like to be a Formula 1 driver too.

“You could be
anything you want if you put your mind to it.” Dad replied, before
suggesting he take Judy and I go-kart racing one day.

“Really?” I yelped.
“That'd be so cool.”

“What'd be so cool?”
my mother asked as she entered. I replied and Mum said that sounds
like fun. “Better than ballet eh?” she added.

“Anything's better
than ballet.” I claimed.

Later, I'm sat in my
room reading when Judy popped her head around the door. In her hands
is a bundle of laundry; half hers, half mine. She passes me a pile of
T shirts, pants, knickers and socks, on top of which is my leotard
and ballet tights. She loiters as I put them away. “What are you
reading?” she asked. I was a little embarrassed to be reading a
story in her old Brownie Book of Adventure titled Susan and the
Secret Scroll. I justified my choice of story by claiming that
I’d read all my own books. “There's nothing wrong with reading
girl's books.” Judy said. “Just like there's nothing wrong with
going to Brownies or ballet or being the May Queen.”

“Hey!” I announced.
“Dad said he'd take us go-karting.”

“At Speed Demons?”
Judy asked.

“Er... I dunno.” I
replied. It turns out that Speed Demons is a new circuit in
Dunstanton and apparently it's 'ace'. Judy hadn't been but some of
her school friends have. She described their experience and it
sounded great.

The
very next day, our dad did indeed take us go-karting and it was
indeed 'ace'. Judy won one of her races and the best I achieved was a
third place position. But it's not the winning that matters, it's the
taking part. “That seems like the first 'boy' thing I've done for
months.” I said.

We rejoined Dad in the
viewing area. He congratulated our driving skills and gave us the
choice of watching a few races or going for a burger. We decided to
watch a few races then go for a burger. As we ate, Judy and I
recalled every corner and every overtake of our five races. It was a
pity that we didn't actually race each other since we're in different
age groups, but at least we got to watch each other's races. “Can
we come again next week?” I enthusiastically asked.

“Probably not.” he
smiled, before explaining that it's not a cheap day out and that we
can have too much of a good thing. “Maybe in a couple of months
eh?”

Neither Judy nor myself
wanted to wait that long, but we didn't argue with Dad's reasoning.
When we arrived home we wasted no time in telling Mum about our great
day out and insisted that next time, she'll have to come too. “They
have grown up races for Mums and Dads.” Judy said. “But Dad
chickened out of entering.”

Dad said he had a great
time just being a spectator but hinted that he might get more
involved next time he takes us. The next day at school I had
something cool to boast about for a change and in spite of the fact
that I didn't win a single race, I felt like the next Lewis Hamilton.
But that didn't stop a few of my classmates from taking the wind out
of my sails by reminding me that next weekend, I'll be dressing like
a girl in the May Queen parade.

Tuesday evening is my
last time attending Brownies. Today's task is learning how to arrange
flowers. I enthusiastically told my pack all about going go-karting
as I pushed dried flowers and foliage into a lump of oasis and
cheekily asked Brown Own if there was a racing driver badge I could
have. “Unfortunately not Peter.” she grinned before advising me
how to improve my display. “...but looking at this...” she said
as she carefully placed my display into a small wicker basket,
“...you will have earned the flower arranger badge.”

I know which badge I'd
rather have. I considered all the other badges that adorned the
sleeve of my Brownie uniform; Sewing, stargazing, knots, laying a
table, sweeping up, shopper, dancer, fire, map reading, card making
and now flower arranging. “Will I have to put all my Brownie
badges on my Cub Scout uniform when I go back to cubs?” I glumly
asked.

“Well that's up to
the Scout Master.” Brown Owl replied. “I didn't think it was fair
on the other girls to bring your Cub badges when you joined
Brownies... so don't be disappointed if you're not allowed take your
Brownie badges back to Cubs.”

It's going to be bad
enough going back to cubs after two months of Brownies without having
my new badges stitched to my sleeve. I don't really want to explain
why I’ve got a badge with a ballet dancer on it, or a dustpan &
brush, a shopping basket or flower arrangement. Brown Owl asked me if
I was looking forward to going back to Cubs. “Yeah!” I
enthusiastically replied. At the end of the meeting, those of us
who'd earned a new badge were formerly awarded them, before Brown Owl
said how nice it's been having myself, Brian and Andrew joining them
over the last couple of months. “...but if any of you would prefer
to stay on at Brownies, then we're all more than happy for you to do
so.” I glanced around and the other girls all seemed to be nodding
in agreement.

“Now
as you all know, it's May Day bank holiday on Monday.” Brown Owl
said. She asked all eight of us nominees to form a line at the front
of the hall. “You've all worked ever so hard over the last few
weeks and choosing just one of you to be this year's May Queen has
been no easy decision...” she told us. She seemed to drag the
announcement out for a long as possible and whilst fearful that I
might be selected, I was quietly confident that tradition would be
adhered to and a girl would be named. However my confidence was
quickly shattered when she said, “...since this is the first year
we've allowed boys to be involved, it should come as no surprise that
this years May queen will be a boy.” Some of the girls gasped, some
grumbled whilst some giggled. “...and that boy will be...” she
paused. I had a feeling it'd be Brian or Andrew, since both are
'part-time' petticoatees. “...Peter Jackson!” My heart sank and I
nervously glanced around the faces all staring at me. Brian and
Andrew both looked relieved whilst Paula and Wendy both cast me a
dagger like stare. I bit my lip and smiled as I received a small
round of applause.

The Brownies left
leaving myself and the Seven
Sisters behind to make the final preparations for the parade.
Collectively referring to us as 'girls', Brown Owl told us that the
local sewing circle has been busy making our costumes and stressed
just how pretty we're going to look on May Day. “When will we get
our dresses?” Wendy asked.

“On Saturday at
ballet class.” Brown Owl replied before prompting us to get on with
the task at hand; that being stringing the paper flowers into long
garlands which will decorate the float and carriage. Eventually we
changed back into our Brownie uniforms and prepared to leave. “I'll
see you all at Miss Jarovski's on Saturday where we'll have a full
dress rehearsal.” Brown Owl said, “...and I’m certain this
year's procession is going to be great success!” she added.

As usual, my mother was
waiting for me outside, as was some of the other girl's parents.
Brown Owl accompanied me and I told my mother that I'm going to be
May queen. Predictably, Mum was over the moon, but I was surprised to
discover that she already knew. It later transpired that the parents
of the eight nominees decided amongst themselves which one should be
selected and the vote was split between myself and Paula Baxter.
Brown Owl cast the deciding vote and since it was her initiative that
lead to the inclusion of boys, she opted for a boy. “And what's
this?” Mum asked when I presented her with the basket of dried
flowers.

“I made it.” I
replied.

“It's beautiful!”
she said. I suspected she was only saying that because it really
wasn't that good. “It'll look lovely on your windowsill.” she
added.

“I don't want it in
my room.” I retorted. “It's for you.”

“Well that's very
sweet Peter.” Mum smiled. I felt like such a ninny as we walked
home with me carrying the small basket of colourful dried flowers in
one hand and my mum holding the other. “Are you going to miss going
to Brownies?” she asked.

“A bit.” I replied.
“...but I am looking forward to being a Cub again.” I added.

“I bet you are.”
she smiled. “And after Monday, it'll all be over... I bet you're
looking forward to that too.” she knowingly added.

We arrived home and Mum
prompted me to tell my Dad and sister Judy the news. Dad said he was
very proud of me and Judy said she couldn't wait to see me wearing a
proper dress. “Will he get to keep it afterwards?” Judy asked.

Three words sprang to
mind, being 'I hope not'. “Of course!” Mum replied, before
showing off the dried flower arrangement I'd made at Brownies. “He's
got a new badge too.” she added.

It seemed like a waste
of time but Mum insisted that I stitch my new badge to the sleeve of
my Brownie uniform. “It'll only take five minutes.” she stated.
So I took myself to my room, removed my brown frock and sat in my
underwear tacking and stitching the badge on. I felt quite proud that
I’d got eleven badges in only a couple of months. It took me well
over a year to get that many in Cubs. Once stitched on, I donned my
nutty brown frock and returned downstairs. “I'm going to miss
having a Brownie around the house.” Mum said after inspecting my
new badge.

“Brown Owl did say we
could stay if we wanted to.” I informed her, before restating that
I can't wait to go back to Cubs. Judy suggested that I transfer all
my Brownie badges to my cub scout uniform, which would give me an
impressive sleeve full. “I don't want my dancing, shopping and
sweeping up badges on my cubs uniform!” I grumbled. “They'll
tease me enough as it is after going to Brownies.”

“Well stay at
Brownies then.” Mum suggested. I reminded her that I'd rather go
back to Cubs.

At school the next day
I received the usual handful of taunts from the kids who'd seen me in
my Brownie uniform, carrying a basket of flowers “...and holding
his mummy's hand!” Carl Bradshaw revealed. I made it clear that I'm
no longer a Brownie and would be returning to Cubs the following
week. One member of my Cub Scout group told me that I wouldn't be
welcome and called me a sissy. Although annoying, such taunts are
water off a duck's back to me now. Word had also got around that
it'll me who'll be crowned as May Queen, something my teachers
claimed I should be very proud of. It's hard to be proud of something
I never wanted to do, especially when it garners a certain amount of
animosity from my fellow classmates. Some of the boys think I'm
becoming a sissy and some of the girls think I’m trespassing on
their turf.

On
Saturday I endure the final ballet class which feels a bit pointless
for me because all I'll be doing is sitting, waving and smiling
whilst the others lay bouquets of flowers at my feet. I'm accompanied
by both my mother and sister who observe from the side with the other
parents. When we first came to Miss Jarowski's School of ballet I was
very self conscious about having to wear a leotard and dance tights,
but now it doesn't bother me so much. However today is the day we're
introduced to our costumes and mine is by far the most elegant! As
I'm buttoned into the floor length gown, I feel somewhat envious of
the shorter, plainer dresses the others will be wearing. “Now
you've got to be very careful Peter...” Brown Owl tells me,
“...because it's easy to trip over such a long dress.” She shows
me how to lift it when I'm climbing steps or curtseying, and how to
arrange when I sit. “And don't forget to keep your knees and ankles
together.” she states. “May queen is traditionally a girl so
remember to act like one.” I sit on a chair in the centre of the
studio whilst the Seven sisters gracefully prance around me. They lay
imaginary bouquets at my feet and I'm encouraged to smile and wave
for the duration. I can't help but glance at my mother and sister
who's beaming grins express the pride they must be feeling. All I
feel is embarrassed, but it's far too late to get out of it.
Thankfully my mother hasn't brought her camera. She's saving the rest
of the film for May Day.

I figured all I'd be
doing is sitting and waving, but it soon dawns on me that I'll also
have to make a speech. Flanked by my Seven Sisters, I nervously read
the words which Brown Owl has written. First, I thank everyone for
attending and wish them an enjoyable day. Then I thank everyone who's
organised the event and those who are participating. I thank everyone
for the beautiful flowers and thank my seven sisters for all their
hard work and support, before formerly declaring the May Day
celebrations open. I'm encouraged to deliver the speech loudly,
confidently and clearly ...and most importantly, with a smile. “And
as the crowd applauds, you smile, curtsey left, curtsey right, and
curtsey to the front, before sitting on your throne.” Brown Owl
instructs.

“Oh god.” I think
as I perform the trio of curtseys. I'm given a copy of the speech so
I can rehearse it. All of a sudden, I think I’d rather have been
one of the seven sisters rather than the May Queen.

Afterwards, Mum tells
me that I was 'perfect' but adds that I mustn't sound too nervous on
the big day. My sister tells me that I look great in my dress. I tell
her that I feel like a dork as she unfastens my buttons. “Well it's
how you look that matters.” she replied as I carefully stepped out
of the dress and handed it to Brown Owl. I looked myself up and down;
pink ballet shoes, white tights and black leotard. I noticed my
sister also looking me up and down. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” she
replied, before telling me that I look 'cute'. I honestly don't know
if she's teasing me or being honest, either way... this is the last
time I'll have to wear my leotard.

We bid the others
farewell and as is the norm, go for lunch in a burger bar. Mum asks
if I'm going to miss going to ballet. I tell her that I'm glad it's
over. “I thought you were getting into it?” she suggested.

“Not really.” I
replied, although I have become used to the routine. “I'll miss
going to Brownies more.” I said. My mother reminded me that I don't
have to leave Brownies if I don't want to. “I know but I want to go
back to Cubs.”

“That's a good idea!”
Mum stated. I wasn't so sure. I don't think I'd be allowed to be a
Brownie and a Cub. Mum suggested I ask Brown Owl. I said I
might, but was mostly worried about what my classmates would think if
I decided not to leave Brownies. Mum changed the topic and said that
she's in two minds whether to buy me some new shoes or to dig out an
old pair of my sisters. “You've got some white Mary Jane's haven't
you.” she stated.

“What do I want shoes
for?” I asked.

“To wear with your
dress.”

“Won't I be wearing
my ballet shoes?” I said, since I wore them in the dress rehearsal.
Both my mother and sister told me that ballet shoes aren't suitable
for outdoor use. “But you wear ballet shoes for school.” I said.

“I know but they're
different.” Judy replied.

“Those Mary Jane's
would be nice.” Mum said.

“But they might not
fit him.” my sister replied. “Plus... he might not want to spend
all day wearing heels.”

“He'll be sat down
most of the time.”

“Only for the
parade.” Judy stated. “After that he'll be on his feet.”

“Well he wears Mary
Jane's for Brownies... he's more than accustomed to the heel.”

“True.” Judy
replied.

“Is anyone going to
ask what I want?” I groaned. Mum and Judy gave me their attention.
“Well...” I began, not really knowing what I want. “...I didn't
want to be May Queen in the first place.” I said. “I'm only doing
it because everyone tells me I should... and given the choice, I'd
rather not wear shoes with heels all day long. It's bad enough
wearing them at Brownies.”

“OK.” Mum replied.
“We'll have a look for some flat shoes if that's what you prefer.”
she said. I frowned and nodded “But you'll have to try them on.”
she added.

“I know.” I
mumbled.

We finished our meal
and headed down the high street. The search for shoes began in John
Lewis but the suitable styles were deemed too expensive for just one
day. We exited the store and Mum deliberated which shoe shop to try
next. Judy suggested the bridal shop, since the style I'm looking for
are essentially bridesmaid's shoes, but Mum said they'd be far too
expensive in there. “He'll only be wearing them once so lets try
Primark.” she suggested.

With a vast selection
and inexpensive prices, we soon found something suitable in the
discount clothing store. The shoes I ended up with are almost
identical to the black ballet style shoes my sister (and many other
girls) wear for school, only the ones I ended up with are white and
are decorated with a little white bow on the front. Judy got some new
shoes too; a pair of lilac baseball style plimsolls with powder pink
laces, and once again, the cashier assumed both pairs of shoes were
for my sister. “Have you tried these on?” the cashier asked. Mum
and Judy nodded and the cashier pointed out that each pair was
clearly a different size.

“Oh, er... yes.” my
mother sheepishly replied, glancing at me before returning her gaze
to the cashier, then she dropped the bombshell.

“I see!” the
cashier replied. “You're the talk of the town!” she said. “Are
you looking forward to it?”

“I guess.” I
gulped. Although more specifically, I'm looking forward to it all
being over.

“We're very proud of
him.” Mum smiled. “Although he is a little nervous.. aren't you.”

“Very.” I replied.

“I'm not surprised!”
the cashier retorted. “But don't let that bother you... my sister
was May Queen a decade ago and she was nervous too.”

My mother had
previously claimed that everyone who's selected as May Queen gets
nervous because it's such a great honour. Maybe she's right. Maybe if
I was a proper girl I'd still be nervous? All I know is I'm not a
girl and that fact is why I'm crapping myself. The cashier wished me
the best of luck on Monday and politely, I thanked her. We left the
store and finally made our way home.

Dad asked if I'd
enjoyed my ballet class and I half-heartedly told him about the full
dress rehearsal and that I have to make a speech too. “It'll all be
over on Monday son.” he said.

“Eight quid from
Primark.” Mum replied before informing him that she'd bought Judith
a new pair of plimsolls too. She was full of airs and graces as she
told my dad how pretty and delightful I looked in my dress and
claimed that she even felt a little bit tearful. “It's just a dress
Mum.” I told her.

“It's more than just
a dress Peter.” she stated. I know she's right.

On
Sunday, the day before the big day, I felt a bit down. The weather
was over cast and so was my mood. In the back of my mind I hoped it'd
rain and rain... and rain, and rain... so much so that the May Day
parade would be cancelled. Mum asked me why I was being so quiet and
I told her the truth. “Do you think Brian and Andrew are as nervous
as I am?” I asked.

“I know but...
they're used to wearing dresses and everyone's seen them wearing
dresses.” I glumly claimed. “Everyone's going to laugh at me.”

“I assure you they
won't Peter... and plenty of people have seen you in your Brownie
uniform.”

“I know but that's
not really nice like my May Queen dress.”

Mum smiled and agreed.
“It's nice to hear you admitting that it's nice... you never know,
you might even enjoy wearing it at this rate.” she smiled.

“I doubt it.” I
gulped.

Later in the afternoon,
Brown Owl calls around with my dress. Mum offered her a cup of tea
and Brown Owl gratefully accepted. My mother asked me to put the
kettle on. “I think I can finally stop for the day now.” Brown
Owl said as she pulled out a dining chair and sat herself down.

“Busy day?” Mum
asked as she hung my dress from the pantry door. Brown Owl said she'd
spent the morning helping to decorate the float and carriage, and has
just been delivering the dresses to each of the Seven Sisters,
including Brian and Andrew Proctor. “Were they wearing their Sunday
dresses?” Mum asked.

Brown Owl smiled and
nodded and said they both looked nice. “What were they like?” I
asked. I don't know why I asked and didn't really know what to say
other than “oh” when Brown described Brian's lime green frock and
Andrew's royal blue one.

“Are you looking
forward to tomorrow?” she asked.

“Er... yeah I guess.”

“I think he's bit
nervous.” Mum said.

Brown Owl said that's
understandable and claimed that every May Queen gets nervous.
“...even the girls.” she smiled and asked if I'd been practising
my speech.

“Yeah... a bit.”

“Good boy.” she
replied, “Although I only realised last night that I'd made one
glaring omission.”

“What's that?” I
asked.

Brown Owl dipped her
hand into her handbag and removed a sheet of A4 paper, seemingly
identical to the one on which my speech is printed. She handed it to
me and asked me to read it aloud. I thank everyone for attending and
wish them an enjoyable day. Then I thank everyone who's organised the
event and those who are participating. I thank everyone for the
beautiful flowers which will be distributed to the local care homes
and day centres and thank my seven sisters for all their work and
support... “This is the new bit.” Brown Owl said.

“...and I’d like to
thank the ladies of the sewing circle for all their hard work making
my beautiful dress.” I paused, gulped and glanced at my dress
hanging from the door frame. “I hereby announce that the May Day
celebrations are open, and wish each and every one of you a wonderful
day.”

Mum and Brown Owl
clapped their hands. “Very good Peter.” Mum said.

“Yes... excellent.”
Brown Owl agreed, before suggesting that after thanking the ladies of
the sewing circle for my dress, that I should pause, hold out my
skirt and “...do a little curtsey.”

“OK.” I gulped. I
re-read the line, mimed holding my skirt out and curtseyed before
completing my speech.

“Wonderful!” they
declared. I blushed and asked if I really have to curtsey afterwards.
“Of course.” Mum claimed.

“But... I'll be
curtseying at the end anyway, when I get my round of applause.”

“You'll be curtseying
a lot more after that when everyone wants to meet and greet you.”
Brown Owl said. “We're expecting a huge turnout... especially now
word has got around that this year's May Queen is a boy!”

I bit my lip as a
little swarm of butterflies fluttered in my tummy. Brown Owl advised
me to throw my original speech away, since I don't want to read the
wrong one by mistake and forget to thank the ladies of the sewing
circle. Mum asked what the order of play would be tomorrow. I know
the May Queen procession begins at 10.30am, but am surprised to hear
that I need to be ready by 9.00am. I ask why so early. “Because we
need plenty of time to make sure that everything is perfect.” I'm
told.

“Why don't you take
your dress up to your room ready for the morning?” Mum suggested.

Getting
to sleep that night was like trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. The
butterflies in my tummy wouldn't cease their fluttering and I feared
that I might not sleep at all. But inevitably I did. I peeled my eyes
open and the first thing I saw was the dress hanging from my
wardrobe. I looked at my bedside clock. It's 6.45am and my alarm is
due to go off at 7.30. I'd have liked to have had a lie in but I felt
far too anxious. I went downstairs and had Chekkies for breakfast.
Mum appeared around 7.00am. “You're up early.” she said.

“Couldn't sleep.” I
replied.

“You were fast asleep
when I checked on you.” she told me. “Have you had a wash and
cleaned your teeth?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I
replied.

Mum suggested I do just
that whilst she 'gets things ready'. I went to the bathroom and five
minutes later, returned to my room where Mum had laid my dress on my
bed. I gulped. “Still nervous?” Mum asked. I nodded. “Don't
worry... it's just excitement.” she claimed. I know excitement and
this isn't it. This feeling is one of fear and dread. “I bought you
some nice undies.” Mum informed me. “To wear with your dress.”

Unlike my plain white
cotton knickers which have a bit of lacy trim... these are shiny
satin with lots of lace. “Er... I guess.” I meekly replied when
Mum asked me if they were pretty. “Do I have to wear a bra?” I
sheepishly asked.

“It's only a training
bra.” Mum replied. It doesn't have cups like a proper bra, just a
flat satin panel like a crop top, decorated with a little satin bow
and broad lace trim. It's straps are adjustable, just like a proper
bra and it also fastens like a proper bra too. Mum helped me into it
and adjusted the straps. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“OK.” I gulped.

She handed me the
knickers and I stepped into them. I'm no stranger to wearing knickers
since I've been wearing them since I joined Brownies, but these are
different. Mum smiled whilst I felt myself blushing. I asked for my
dress, if only to cover up my underwear. “Not yet love.” she
replied, handing me my robe. “I need to do your make-up first.”

“Make-up!”

“Yes... make-up.”

“Oh Mu-um.” I
whined as Mum took me downstairs and sat me at the kitchen table.
“Where's Dad and Judy?” I asked as she put a band around my head
to hold my fringe off my face.

“Still in bed.” Mum
replied. I glanced at the clock. It's 7.35am. I nervously watched as
she began removing various items from her case. “Don't look so
worried.” she advised. “Just close your eyes and relax... you're
only going to do this once so you may as well enjoy it.”

I closed my eyes and
Mum began to gently apply a layer of powder all over my face and
neck. It tickled my nose. She told me to keep my eyes closed whilst
she applied my eye shadow. Her gentle touch felt really relaxing. I
opened my eyes so she could apply some mascara. “Well done.” she
said.

“What for?”

“You didn't flinch.”
she smiled as she twisted a lipstick. I gulped as its pale pink stick
emerged but remained silent as she applied it. “There you are.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course.” Mum
replied, handing me a vanity mirror.

“I look like a girl.”
I said.

“And so you should.”
she grinned. “You are the May Queen.”

“Do I have to get
dressed now?” I asked whilst deliberately frowning.

“Not yet... I haven't
quite finished.”

I hear footsteps and
turn towards the door. It's Judy. She stopped and stared, then smiled
and said. “Is Peter still in bed?”

“No.” I coyly
replied. Judy asked where 'he' was. I grinned and told her to stop
being silly.

“Sorry little bro...
you look well cute.” she smiled.

I blushed and turned to
face my mother who was removing the lid from a tiny bottle of nail
varnish. “Fingers or toes first?” Mum asked. I opted for my
fingernails and quizzed why my toenails needed painting too. My shoes
aren't sandals so no one will see my toes, I figured. “It's just
nice to know they look nice, even if no one else knows.” Mum
replied as she began to paint my fingernails.

I remained silent
whilst she did the first hand. Just like having my make-up applied, I
quite enjoyed the process of being pampered. Mum commented on the
colour. “Is it the same colour as my lipstick?” I asked.

“It is.” Mum
replied.

“How long does it
last for?” I asked.

“Well...” Mum
shrugged. “...until you remove it.” she replied before telling me
that I could keep it on for a few days if I wanted. I reminded her
that I have school tomorrow.

“You could borrow my
old uniform.” my sister grinned. I knew she was joking so responded
with nothing but a smile and a polite refusal.

I kept my palms pressed
flat against the tabletop whilst Mum panted my toenails. She asked my
sister what she'd be wearing today and Judy replied with a handful of
options including shorts & leggings, a skirt & top and this
or that dress. “I think you should definitely wear a dress...
seeing as your brother will be.” Mum replied, grinning and winking
at me. Once finished, Mum told me not to move so my toenails could
dry for a few minutes. “Do you want some scrambled egg or a bacon
butty?” she asked. I told her I’d had some Chekkies but Mum said
I needed more than that. “You won't get chance to eat anything else
until lunchtime.” she stated.

The scent of eggs and
bacon must have woken Dad up. He appeared as Judy and I were chomping
down a bacon and egg sandwich. I'd more or less forgotten that I was
wearing make-up but his presence reminded me. I half expected him to
tease me but he didn't. He just smiled and yawned and made small talk
as usual. “What time do you need to be at the Village Hall?” he
asked.

“Nine.” Mum
replied. “So the sooner we get this one dressed the better.” she
added as she smiled down on me.

By eight-forty I had my
dress on. Mum and Judy kept telling me how nice I looked and I kept
saying how silly I felt. Mum led me downstairs. I held my skirt to
avoid tripping as I shyly followed. The delicate, almost weightless
garment felt like it floated around me. I know I feel like a dork
but... my dress does feel special, much more so today than at the
rehearsal when I wore it over my leotard and tights. Maybe Mum's
right about the 'special' underwear? I glanced at myself as I passed
the hallway mirror, but I didn't see my reflection. Instead I caught
a fleeting glimpse of a girl with short hair. I might have got way
with it if the whole town didn't know that this year's May Queen is
going to be a boy. I followed my mother to the kitchen. “Doesn't he
look pretty?” she announced as I stepped through the doorway.

“You look fine son.”
Dad replied. “We're all very proud of you.”

“Thanks Dad.” I
coyly groaned.

“How do you feel?”
he asked.

“Like a girl.” I
replied. I looked down at my dress, then back at my Dad. “But I
guess that's the idea isn't it?”

“It is.” he smiled.
“You enjoy it while you can... you've put a lot of time and effort
in to today. You should be proud of yourself.”

Maybe I should be proud
of myself? I thought. I've endured many weeks of teasing for being
part of the parade, but at least I've done something! All they've
done is snipe at me. Maybe my teachers are right too... maybe they
are jealous?

“Can I get a
photograph before we go?” Mum asked, wielding her camera.

“Oh Mu-um.” I coyly
replied.

“Here, put your
gloves on.” she said, handing me a pair of white lace gloves. I
carefully pulled them on and my sister fastened the two
mother-of-pearl buttons for me. “OK... stand over there.” Mum
said, before taking numerous photographs of me. This one, she
declared her favourite and it would later grace the mantelpiece for
years to come.

It goes without saying
that I was a nervous wreck as we drove the village hall. The gaily
decorated flat bed truck is parked outside and Mum asked if the
garlands that decorated it were the ones we'd made. “They look very
pretty.” she said. “It's hard to believe it's just a truck.”

“It's hard to believe
I’m just a boy.” I dryly retorted.

My mother grinned and
agreed. “It'll all be over after today.” she said, “Then you
can go back to being 'just' a boy again.”

We got out of the car
and headed inside. Brian and Andrew were already there, as was Paula.
“Peter you look beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It's hard to
believe you're really a boy!”

Coyly, I thanked her
and said she looks nice too. I turned to Brian and Andrew who also
wore make-up and in spite of their short hair, also looked very
girlie in their white knee length dresses. Andrew complimented my
dress. “Thanks.” I said. Brian remained sheepish and shy. “You
OK Brian?”

“Yeah I guess... just
looking forward to getting today over with.”

“Me too.”

“Listen to them.”
my mother said to his. “It's almost as if they're completely
elusive to how honoured they are.”

“I know.” Mrs
Proctor replied. “But they are only boys after all.”

“True.” Mum agreed.
“I'd have thought you'd have been used to wearing dresses by now
Brian?”

“I am... I just don't
like wearing them in public.”

“You'll get used to
that.” his mother told him. “Andrew's not so bothered are you?”

Her youngest son looked
up at her with puppy dog eyes and said, “No Mummy.”

“Could I get a photo
of all of you?” my mother asked, wielding her camera once more.

“Oh Mu-um.” I
moaned.

“I can't let a day
like today pass without documenting it.” Mum replied.

Mum assembled the four
of us in a group and took a couple of snaps. Brown Owl appeared
behind her and said “Big Brownie smiles girls!” in a chirpy tone
of voice. Paula's mother was also present. “Don't they all look
delightful?” Brown Owl asked her.

Her mother looked at us
a frowned. “Well... as you know, I've been against letting boys be
involved right from the start.” she replied. She looked at us again
and her stern expression softened a little. “But seeing them now, I
must admit, they do look rather sweet.” she admitted. “Especially
you Brian.” she added.

Mum put her camera away
and began chatting with the other adults. One by one, the rest
arrived, each wearing the same white knee length frocks and plenty of
make-up. I got the feeling that being girls, they were clearly far
more comfortable with the whole looking pretty thing than
myself or the Proctor boys, but they were also clearly nervous too.

Brown Owl handed out
various last minute tasks to our mothers before making sure I and my
seven sisters knew exactly what we should be doing throughout the
procession. “Right girls!” Brown Owl led us outside to the float
and directed us where, and how to sit. The seating was fashioned from
bails of hay covered in a canvas tarpaulin and I, being the centre of
attention have to sit on the middle bail with my seven sisters around
me. “Remember your big Brownie smiles girls, and make sure you're
all looking at the crowd, not each other.” she explained. “Peter...
you need to grab the attention of both sides of the route... so wave
with your left hand to the right hand side, and with your right hand
to the left... very good.”

I felt like such a
ninny as I sat on the stationary float, smiling and waving to a
non-existent crowd. I guess the others did too. Brown Owl told us how
we should get off the float when we reach the village green where
I'll be crowned. I'm the last to alight and am to be helped down by
my sisters in a graceful rather than clumsy manner, taking care not
to trip over my long dress. We rehearse this several times before
Brown Owl is happy. “Very good girls! Have you got your speech
Peter?” she asked. I nodded, showed it to her and assured her that
I'd been rehearsing it. “Good boy.” she said. Sometimes I wish
she'd make her mind up... one minute we're 'girls' and the next, I'm
a boy. I must admit though, I certainly feel more like a girl than a
boy today.

We return indoors where
refreshments have been made. Mrs Proctor hands out glasses of orange
juice. “Thank you Mrs Proctor.” we say, except for Brian and
Andrew who both address her as 'Mummy'. My own mother hold a tray
full of cup cakes. They address her as Mrs Jackson except for me, who
calls her 'Mum'.

“It's a bit weird
that you still call her Mummy.” Wendy says to Brian as we chomp
into our snack.

“She doesn't like
being called 'Mum'.” Brian replied, glancing at me.

“Is it true that you
wear dresses every Sunday?” she asked. Brian gulped and
nodded. “Why?” Wendy asked.

Brian shrugged. “'coz
she likes us to.” he bluntly replied. Ever inquisitive, Wendy asked
if they'd always worn dresses on a Sunday. “Nah... it started about
a year ago.” he replied. Again, Wendy asked why. “Because she
thought I was turning into a bully.” Brian confessed.

“And was you?”
Wendy asked, reminding him that he supposedly 'second toughest in the
juniors'.

“I dunno... maybe...
I don't think I was second toughest but I kinda felt that I had to
live up to it.” he replied. “Now everybody thinks I'm the school
sissy so I keep my head down.” he gulped.

“I don't think you're
a sissy.” Paula said.

“Me neither.” a
handful of us added. I pointed out that none of us (myself, Brian and
Andrew) chose to be part of the parade and that we're just going
along with what our parents want. It quickly transpired that out of
all of us, only Paula and Wendy nominated themselves. Janet and
Amanda both expressed how they hate wearing dresses and were both
coerced by their mothers in to doing something that girls should do.
They'd rather go paint balling and get muddy than prance about in a
pretty dress.

“You could always do
both.” Paula suggested. “I don't mean going paint balling wearing
a pretty dress...” she grinned. “...I mean, you can be girlie and
do things like paint balling too.”

“I quite like the
idea of going paint balling in this.” Janet said, holding out her
frock. “I'd never have to wear it again.

“It's not exactly
camouflage.” Brian dryly added.

“Yeah but the paint
splats would look cool!”

Brown Owl sauntered
over and asked if we were all OK, if we were looking forward to the
parade, and what we were talking about. She grinned. “I think
that's a great idea... although I don't think the ladies of the
sewing circle would be too happy.” she collected our glasses and
told us that it was almost time to leave. “Now make sure you all go
to the toilet before we go.” she insisted.

The girls headed for
the ladies and us boys headed for the gents. “How am I supposed to
pee in this?” I asked when faced with a urinal.

“Like a girl.”
Brian suggested as he headed to the cubicle.

“Oh... Brian.” I
said, stopping him in his tracks. “Can you help, please?” I said.
I couldn't pee with my lacy gloves on and I can't unfasten the
buttons myself, so he unfastened them for me. “Is it horrible
having to wear a dress every Sunday?” I asked as he fiddled with
the single button.

“It's OK.” he
replied. “I hated it at first but... I just got used to it.” He
unfastened the other button and said, “I tends to depend on the
dress... some are better than others.” I thanked him and removed my
gloves. He looked at his reflection and said “This isn't so bad.”

“I prefer yours to
mine.”

“Yeah... I hate my
socks though.” he said. I looked down at his feet. He wears a pair
of ivory Mary Jane's with white ankle socks that feature a frilly
lace trim around the ankle. “I'd have preferred tights.”

Andrew exited the
cubicle and Brian entered. Eventually it was my turn

I didn't have this
issue with my Brownie uniform. I hitched my ankle length dress up to
my waist and pulled my knickers down to my knees and sat. “Now I
really do feel like a girl.” I thought. I washed my hands and
rejoined the others, asking Wendy to help with my gloves. She asked
if I was enjoying wearing such a nice dress. “Kind of.” I
replied. “I know I'm going to get teased for the rest of my life
but... it feels kinda nice being a girl for the day.”

“You're more than
just a girl Peter... you're the May Queen.” she said with a broad
smile. “...but I must admit, I’m still jealous that it's you and
not me.”

“Soz.” I coyly
shrugged.

A
small garland of daisies was pinned to each of the seven sister's
heads. Brown Owl made sure they all looked perfect whilst my mother
re-applied my lipstick before we all took our positions on the float.
A small crowd had gathered. We waved and they cheered. The engine
chugged into life and we began to move... slowly.

Small crowds of people
were few and far between on the residential streets, but as the float
turned onto the main street, there was a steady line of spectators on
each side of the road. I did my job of smiling waving, first to the
left, then to the right. The float went no faster than walking pace
so it took about twenty minutes to travel a single mile. My arms were
beginning to ache from all the waving. My jaw was beginning to ache
due to holding a constant smile. Even when I spotted kids from my
class and Cub Scout group laughing and sneering at me, I managed to
smile and wave. What else could I do?

We eventually arrived
at the village green where a small stage had been erected. A brass
band played The Lord of the Dance as we alighted the float and made
our way to the stage. A mantra was going through my head; smile,
wave, don't trip, smile, wave, don't trip. The music stopped and the
Mayer took centre stage. He tapped the microphone before welcoming
the modest crowd to the annual crowning of the May Queen. “...and
I'm proud to introduce Peter Jackson.” A hoard of butterflies
erupted in my tummy as I stepped forwards. He took my hand and I
curtseyed before waving and smiling at the crowd. “Doesn't she look
lovely!” he said, causing half the crowd to laugh. I could feel
myself blushing as the throne was moved in to position. I gathered my
dress and sat myself down, making sure I kept my knees and ankles
together, and making sure that I continued smiling and acknowledging
the crowd. The mayor introduced last year's May Queen who stepped
forwards and curtseyed, before turning to me, smiling and lifting my
crown from a velvet cushion. I gulped as the floral crown of white
blooms was lowered on to my head... I've never felt so special
before. Everybody clapped and cheered. I stood and a satin sash with
May Queen written on it was placed around me, hanging from shoulder
to hip, then a large bunch of flowers was placed in my hands. I
curtseyed, smiled and waved. The mayor said a few more words before
stepping aside.

I stepped up to the mic
and fearfully looked at all the faces, forcing myself to at least
look happy in spite of the fact I'm as nervous as hell. Brian stepped
forwards and took my bouquet. I unfolded my speech, perused the first
few lines before speaking into the microphone. It was strange hearing
my voice booming out over the Tannoy system. Everyone fell silent as
I tried to deliver my speech as best as I could. “...and finally,
I'd like to thank the ladies of the sewing circle for making my
beautiful dress...” I paused, held out my frock and performed my
little curtsey. “...as well as all the dresses my seven sisters are
wearing...” I gestured towards them and smiled. I finished my
speech and performed my trio of curtseys as the crowd clapped and
cheered. Brian handed my bouquet back to me. I waved once more and
finally stepped away from the mic and returned to my throne.

The Mayor stepped
forwards once more to address the crowds. The main celebration is
hosted on the show ground on the outskirts of our small town. There's
a traditional fair, stalls, equestrian displays, a mongrel dog show,
live music, poetry, all sorts of things going on. He gestures to me
once more, states my name and says. “...I hope you'll all give her
a big cheer as she leads the procession to the show ground.”

The clip-clop sound of
horses hooves drew my attention from the small crowd of spectators.
“Oh god!” I thought as my carriage approached. “I'm never going
to live this down.”

All eyes
were upon me as I approached the carriage. “Smile, wave, knees, don't trip” I
said to myself as I cautiously climbed on board with a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand and holding my dress with the other. I sat myself down, looked around and bit my lip. I don't think I've seen such an effeminate space, let alone been in one. The wrought iron sphere has love heart shapes everywhere and some of the paper garlands we'd made hang from its gloss white frame. I look down at my feet and my dainty white satin shoes. I arrange my dress and can't help but feel more than a little bit special. All of a sudden I'm beginning to understand why some girls get giddy over all this 'princess' stuff. "You look beautiful Peter." my mother's voice says, dragging me from my thoughts and back to reality. I gulp and thank her. "Don't forget to smile and wave, and most of all, don't forget to enjoy yourself!" she grinned. I glanced at all the faces that looked in and heeding my mother's reminder, I smiled and waved. The driver climbed on board and the people stepped away. Wendy appeared to be directing
the others, putting Brian, Andrew and Paula on one side of the
carriage and Janet, Amanda and Claire on the other. The carriage
began to move, the crowd clapped, I waved and smiled.

I'd expected
more people to have attended the crowning ceremony, but as we made
our way to the show ground, it soon became clear that most of the
townsfolk were lining the route of the procession. A marching band
followed with a troupe of baton twirlers behind, and behind those,
morris dancers. On either side of my carriage, the seven sisters did
the slow graceful prance that we've been practising each Saturday
morning. The seemed to be doing well, although my heart went out to
Brian and Andrew having to prance about in such a girlie manner. They
received bouquets of flowers, graciously curtseyed and delivered them
to me. By the time we were halfway
to the show ground, my carriage was filled with god knows how
many pungent blooms. My arms were tired from all the waving. My jaw
ached from all the smiling, but at least I didn't have to walk the
mile-and-a-half route.

Mum, Dad, Judy, Brown
Owl, Miss Jarovski and all the other parents greet us when the
carriage draws to a halt. About a dozen bouquets had to be removed
before I could alight. “Did you enjoy that?” my mother asked.
“You look like you did.”

“Oh yes.” I
gleefully replied. Brown Owl said I was 'perfect'. “What are we
going to do with all these flowers?” I asked as I looked back into
my carriage.

“They're going to be
donated to the old people's homes and day centres.” Brown Owl
replied. “...but it'd be nice if you gave one to each of your seven
sisters, since they did such a sterling job of delivering them to
you.”

“Yes, of course.” I
replied before presenting each with one of the bigger bouquets and
thanking them for their help and support. Brian didn't seem too keen
on being given a bouquet but he thanked me for it none-the-less. When
I gave Wendy hers, she said she was still envious that it wasn't she
who'd been chosen as May Queen, but she did say that I'd done just as
well as any girl. “Thanks.” I coyly replied. “I still think the
May Queen should be a girl though.”

“Oh I wouldn't say
that.” she replied. “If a boy enjoys doing girl things then why
shouldn't it be a boy?”

“Yeah I suppose.” I
replied. I cast my eyes over the faces of my seven sisters, my
parents, sister, Brown Owl and our ballet teacher Miss Jarovsky. It's
been a jong journey to get this day and I've had new experiences and
made new friends along the way. It hasn't been easy but in a lot of
ways, it's been worth it. I turn to my carriage and pick another
bouquet before stepping towards my sister and handing it to her. “I
couldn't have done it without you Judy... you're the best sister
ever.”

She took the bouquet in
one hand and slung the other around me. “So are you.” she
grinned. “...and I hope this isn't the last I've seen
of my new little sister.”

Cool story PJ, thanks! I especially like the part where Peter and Judy have their conversation on top of the crag. Is the picture really what a British Brownie uniform looks like? The beanie hat seems weird; not at all what I'd expect for a uniform cap. Looking forward to your next one.

Excellent story, thank you. Now..does he go back to Brownies? Does Brian go to Girl Guides? Does Peter join them in dresses on Sunday? Do they go off to camp as Brownies and Guides? Perhaps to the seaside, and what swimwear do they use?

Great story PJ. It works as a stand alone story or could be continued in some form. Peter is almost old enough to join the guides. I recall one of your pictures. I can understand his concerns, then when the final moment came he enjoyed himself and you could argue struck a blow for equality.

I would imagine that his petticoat experience is not over though. Perhaps a petticoat school might open.

These days girls can join the scouts so at least in theory a boy should be able to join the guides.

Pages

What to expect...

I write one dimensional scenarios about cross dressing, petticoating and forced feminisation. Don't expect a plot or anything complex, don't even expect a proper ending... it's just a load of scenes in which different boys or men (usually called Peter) are forced, encouraged or otherwise persuaded to wear female clothing. Also, there's 'almost' nothing in the way of sex. This blog is for adults only but isn't really X rated.
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